#loverboy!dean lives in my heart

[figthoughts]

thinking about dean winchester coming home to gf!reader after a hunt ໑ৎ⋆˚࿔

— pure fluff, non-sexual nudity, est. relationship

༢ུ࿓

it didn’t take much for dean to relax after a hunt anymore, not since you had entered his life. your big smiles and sparkling eyes, which were filled with pure unadulterated love, had changed him — softened him.

whether you’d be waiting for him at a motel or in the bunker, it was always the same — a quick exchange of greetings and a recap of the hunt. you’d get a more detailed one later, but for now, it was quick and brief; dean needed to decompress.

you huddle into the bathroom together, entangled in each other’s arms, sharing slow tender kisses that help heal his hardened soul. you help dean peel his clothes off, dropping them to the floor in a pile, and start running the bath, your lips and bodies finding each other’s again like clockwork.

it’s become such a tradition that dean already knows if he’s particularly filthy from a hunt, he needs to rinse off first. he slips into the shower and washes off whatever blood or dirt litters his skin, his eyes locked on you as you undress and get the bath ready, putting in sweet body wash and epsom salt to soothe his muscles.

you splash your hand around in the water as he showers, letting it get all bubbly and cozy for the both of you. you share soft smiles with one another, glad that you’re back together again — safe.

when dean deems himself clean enough, he hops out of the shower and wraps his arms around you from behind, unable to help himself from touching you.

you protest at the feeling of his wet skin pressed against yours with a chuckle, “dean, c’mon! s’cold!”

“i can’t help it,” he murmurs and kisses along your neck, “missed you, baby. missed you so damn much.”

it never mattered how long it’d been since he’d seen you last—whether it had been a few hours or a few days—he had missed you. every damn fibre of his heart and soul had missed you.

you smile and giggle softly at the feeling of his plump lips pressing against your skin and his firm arms caging you against him, “i missed you too,” you confess in return.

he spins you around and looks down into your eyes, his gaze warm and sincere, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek, “i love you, you know?”

your heart melts at his declaration and the way his face softens. moments of vulnerability with dean were always rare—though he was getting better—but they always made your heart clench in your chest and your lips stick out in a little pout.

“i know. i love you too, winchester,” you reply, searching his peridot green eyes.

dean smiles, his face lighting up at your words as he pats your cheek fondly in response, a thousand unspoken words passing between the two of you in silent understanding.

you wait for the bathtub to fill up, enjoying the sweet aroma of the soap filling up the room. the steam fogs up the mirror and windows — not that you mind. it’s almost as if it helps create an even more intimate space for the two of you; your own private oasis away from everyone, away from all the evil in the world, a place where it’s just you and dean.

your lips are locked on one another’s again, and your hands linger over every inch of each other’s bodies, in a way that’s so reverent and tender, like this is the last moment you’ll ever have with each other.

the tub almost always overflows while you two are busy worshipping each other. you turn around with an “oh, no!” and turn the water off while dean chuckles behind you.

“got it just in time again, huh?” he breathes out softly, his voice low, not wanting to disturb the easiness and tranquility of the moment you’ve built together.

you turn back and smile at him, “yeah, just in time,” you echo back quietly, meeting his warm gaze, full of devotion and love.

dean steps forward, his hand coming to rest on your lower back as he tentatively dips a foot into the water, testing how warm it is. the smile on his face widens as he steps fully in, “perfect.”

he settles down into the tub, the soothing warmth of the water alleviating any discomfort or lingering pain from the hunt. it’s always a deep sigh of relief that follows as he relaxes, shutting his eyes while his head falls back against the tiles for a moment.

dean eventually looks up at you with a sweet toothy smile that mirrors yours, missing the feeling of your skin against his. he reaches his hand out, “c’mon, baby. the water’s gonna get cold.”

“yeah, keep your pants on. i’m coming,” you breathe out through a chuckle and take his hand, stepping into the tub, the water enveloping your body like a warm hug. dean’s quick to pull you back against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

dean lets out another sigh, one that sounds like it’s been living in his lungs for too long. his warm breath brushes past your ear, and you know at that very moment — you’re together. you’re safe. and not a thing in the world could ruin this perfect moment between the two of you.

A/N: this has lived in my drafts for a while and i don’t like it but i’m posting it anyways LOL !! my soul actually aches for sweet bf dean ugh !! in my head we are married !!!

feedback and reblogs are welcome ‘n appreciated! thank uuu!

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @jackleslvr @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @floralscented @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

↑ comment to be added!

[withlove-xixi]

— TOUDEN PARTY'S MUSIC TASTE

★ bit different from what i normally do but this has been stuck on my mind for forever now ... anyway here's what i think the touden party members listen to <3 (plus most of these songs are songs i actually really like + ive added the spotify links to them if you want to check them out!)

laios would be very picky with what he listens to. i think he's more of a vibe guy than anything, the songs he likes doesn't necessarily have a pattern to them, as long as he likes their vibes, it's good in his books. though, i'd like to think he enjoys songs from different languages too. despite not understanding them, he finds them really interesting and would even look up the meaning to the lyrics (which i like to think leads to him just knowing random words in different languages lol)

some songs i think he'd like: o maliwanag na buwan by pilita corrales, crocodile rock by elton john, cien anos by pedro infante, that's amore by dean martin

marcille, while i think most people would think she'd listen to chappell roan and other similar artists (i dont entirely disagree), i think she prefers softer songs, ones with a more jazzy vibe or a more calming or mellow tune, since i like to think she's the type to listen to music while she works. scattered in her playlists are more "mainstream" music (i think she'd like hot-to-go by chappell roan to some degree and also maybe like one mitski song)

some songs i think she'd like: beneath the mask from persona 5, lovergirl by saturra, hearts and crosses by heavenly, pikebubbles by the cardigans

chilchuck would ... have a similar taste with my dad. there are definitely older songs he'd like, things that are more rock and roll and stuff, and a handful of ... questionable modern songs, specifically those catchy pop songs you'd hear from retail stores.

some songs i think he'd like: the killing moon by echo & the bunnymen, good old fashioned loverboy by queen, closer by chainsmokers (this one pains me to add to the list lol), everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fears

senshi listens to old songs too lol. i dont think he listens to music much and has a select few songs he really likes. (as the kids say) it's giving you're older relative's karaoke song list lol. for him, it's less of a vibe and more of what he's familiar with. i don't think she's really keen on certain genres but more or less, he leaves music playing and whatever comes on he listens to (then saves which ever new song he ends up liking)

some songs i think he'd like: enveloped ideas by the dawn, this kiss by faith hill, kiss from a rose by seal, you're beautiful by james blunt

izutsumi i think is also picky with what she listens to, and like laios, goes for the vibe rather than the song itself. i think she just likes the noise rather than the song itself, plus i think she likes those joke songs. idk she feels really messy to me and she just listens to whatever she likes (she doesn't like trying new songs)

some songs i think she'd like: put the money in the bag by yuno miles, take me out by franz ferdinand, cascade by siouxie and the banshees, five nights at freddy's by the living tombstone (take these suggestions w a grain of salt lol)

[berettajane]

Oh, Loverboy!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 931

Summary: A night of celebration gives Dean the courage to ask you the question that's been burning on his tongue.

A/N: ��I do not own the pictures used! 

It had been a while since you’d had a day to breathe and let off some steam.  You’d decided to hit up to the local bar after wrapping up a case, the latest monster of the week done and dusted.  Sam decided to be the DD since you and Dean had done most of the heavy lifting; you were shocked to see Dean toss him the keys, wiggling his eyebrows at you as a wide grin spread across his face.

You had been hunting with the Winchester brothers on and off for several years, only making the situation permanent after you began dating Dean about four years ago.

Dean grabbed the first round of drinks while you and Sam settled into the booth.  The reason you chose this bar in particular was because the marquee outside said there would be live music starting shortly.  The drinks flowed and the stress slowly melted from your body as laughs were had and taunts were exchanged.  At one point, you’d been asked to dance by a local gentleman nearing his 70s after the band had kicked up a good rhythm.  You tossed a carefree glance over your shoulder to Dean, who winked in return.

“ ‘Bout time we have something real to celebrate, don’t you think?” Dean asked, caging you against the bartop with his body.   “Like what, Dean?  Can’t exactly go painting the town red after every Scooby scrap, now can we?” you giggled. “How ‘bout you marry me?” he offered quietly into your ear.  He didn’t miss the way his voice affected you, shivers running up your spine. You reached back to grab the side of his face, kissing him on the cheek.  “How ‘bout you ask me again when you’re sober, Loverboy.” “I am sober,” he nosed at your cheek. You turned to face him; he donned a serious look, memorizing each detail of your radiant face.  “Sure thing, bud.  Not after that many shots.” “Take a peak at Sammy boy and tell me who’s hammered.” You leaned up on your tiptoes to see over his shoulder, his arms still framing your body.  Sam was sprawled out in the booth, playing with a flippable drink menu at the table as he puffed his cheeks up, exhaling deeply before laughing at the feeling. “But… we’ve ordered like 10 drinks and he’s been getting--” 

“We’ve been switching drinks while you were distracted people-watching or singing along with the band,” Dean interrupted you, biting back a smile. “So, Sam’s trashed and you’re..” you started, putting the pieces together. “Sober as a judge, sweetheart,” he answered, his hand leaving the bar to pull your body to his.  His cologne clouded your senses and space between you was quickly disappearing, “Marry me, Y/N.  I never wanna know another day without your love. You already know I’d kill for you, I’d die for you.” Your mind briefly flashed to the six months and 23 days without him, you and Sam scrambling to find a loophole to bring Dean back after a nasty run-in with an ancient beast. “I just know I have to have you forever, however long that may be for us,” he poured his soul out to you, his warm eyes never leaving yours as his heart raced trying to decipher your reaction. “Save it for the altar, Loverboy,” you chuckled.  Dean cocked his head sideways at your remark.  “You already know I’ve been yours since day one; I’m not going anywhere without you by my side as long as either of us can help it.” You smiled, leaning up to capture his lips with yours as your arms wrapped around his neck.  Dean breathed a sigh of relief, pulling you closer to him. 

Around you, a few people hooped and hollered -- loudest of all: your soon-to-be brother-in-law. “About time!” Sam laughed as you and Dean walked back to the booth he was sunk down in.  “If I had to look at his lovesick, forlorn face another DAY, I was gonna ask you for him my damn self.”  You couldn’t help but laugh at Sam.  It had clearly been a long time since he’d had this much to drink and it was a night you wouldn’t soon forget.  “C’mon you giant dope.  Let’s get you home and--” CRASH ! Sam knocked off items from the table as he struggled to right himself in the booth, “settled into bed before you destroy anything else.”  Dean helped you heave his monstrosity of a sibling out of the booth, handing you his wallet to take care of the tab while he assisted Sam towards the parking lot.   When you opened Dean’s wallet to pick between the many stolen credit cards, you saw a picture tucked underneath one of the laminated sections.  Your eyebrows furrowed and you held the wallet higher, trying to see in the dim bar lights.  Warmth spread across your chest as the familiar scene replayed in your head.  Dean had been recounting the tale of a recent hunt gone sideways to Jody, while Sam captured a picture of you laughing and Dean smiling at you, looking at you as if you were the only one in the world.  

To him, you were.

Masterlist

AO3: BerettaJane

[gaeforurmum]

SONGS

these are some songs that give me the best shifting/writing motivation because they are really good for imagining scenarios or just getting me in my feels <333

₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚ ♡₊˚·˚

____________________

* |

#icanteven - the neighborhood ft. french montana

<3 - carter james

____________________

0 |

18 - one direction

505 - arctic monkeys

____________________

a |

all i want - kodaline

all i wanted - paramore

all the young dudes - mott the hoople

always a woman - billy joel

always forever - cults

american pie - don mclean

another love - tom odell

apocalypse - cigarettes after sex

arcade - duncan laurence ft. fletcher

are you with me - nilu

as the world caves in - matt maltese

astronomy - conan gray

a thousand years - christina perri

____________________

b |

beautiful boy - john lennon

best friend - rex orange county

big black car - gregory alan isakov

blood // water - grandson

bluebird - luca fogale

bohemian rhapsody - queen

brooklyn baby - lana del rey

bubble gum - clario

____________________

c |

can't remember to forget you - shakira ft. rihanna

careless whisper - george michael

cigarette daydreams - cage the elephant

cinema (specifically acoustic) - gary go

corduroy dreams - rex orange county

corps - yseult

could have been me - the struts

counting stars - onerepublic

crazy - shawn mendes

____________________

d |

dancing with your ghost - sasha alex sloan

dark horse - katy perry

dark red - steve lacy

daydreamin' - ariana grande

death on two legs - queen

did i mention - descendants (the songs are good man)

dusk till dawn - zayn ft. sia

____________________

e |

easily - bruno major

eleanor rigby - cody fry

electric love - børns

e.t. - katy perry

experience - ludovico einaudi

____________________

f |

fire on fire - sam smith

fix you - coldplay

fools rush in - elvis presley

fourth of july - sufjan stevens

freaks - surf curse

____________________

g |

golden - harry styles

good looking - suki waterhouse

go solo - tom rosenthal

____________________

h |

hall of fame - the scrpt ft. will.i.am

happy accidents - saint motel

heart attack - demi lavato

hold my hand - jess glynn

home - luke mccormick

home - cavetown

____________________

i |

idk you yet (acoustic cover) - zach hood

i don't want to watch the world end with someone else - clinton kane

i hear a symphony - cody fry

illicit affairs - taylor swift

i lived - onerepublic

i love you so - the walters

i melt with you - modern english

infinity - jaymes young

into it - chase atlantic

isabelle - zach hood (especially good if ur name's isabelle)

i think i'm in love - kat dahlia

it's ok - tom rosenthal

i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

i want you - mitski

____________________

j |

je te laisserai des mots - patrick watson

juliet - cavetown

just the two of us - grover washington

____________________

k |

kids again - artist vs poet

killer queen - queen

____________________

l |

lay me down - sam smith ft. john legend

the less i know the better - tame impala

let her go - passenger

lights are on - tom rosenthal

like real people do - hozier

line without a hook - ricky montgomery

liquid smooth - mitski

locked out of heaven - bruno mars

look after you - the fray

lose my mind - dean lewis

love grows - edison lighthouse

love in the dark - adele

lover - taylor swift

loverboy - a-wall

love story - taylor swift

____________________

m |

make you mine - public

male fantasy - billie eilish

marry you - bruno mars

meet me in the woods - lord huron

middle of nowhere - vancouver sleep clinic

midnight memories - one direction

million dreams - the greatest showman

million little reasons - oscar lang

moral of the story - ashe

mr. forgettable - david kushner

mr loverman - ricky montgomery

mrs magic - strawberry guy

my blood - ellie goulding

my kind of woman - mac demarco

____________________

n |

never be alone - shawn mendes

night changes - one direction

nocturne op.9 no.2 - chopin

notion - the rare occasions

____________________

o |

ocean eyes - billie eilish

o children - nick cave & the bad seeds

only love can hurt like this - paloma faith

ophelia - the lumineers

out of my league - fitz and the tantrums

____________________

p |

paper rings - taylor swift

paradise - coldplay

photograph - ed sheeran

peices - danilo stankovic

pretty boy - the neighborhood

purple rain - prince

____________________

r |

remember that night - sara kays

revenge - xxxtentacion

rewrite the stars - the greatest showman

right here - chase atlantic

riptide - vance joy

rolling in the deep - adele

rosyln - bon iver and st. vincent

run - onerepublic

____________________

s |

say it first - role model

see you again - charlie puth and wiz khalifa

see you later - jenna raine

sexy and i know it - lmfao (this is kind of a joke but also not, sorry)

she - harry styles

she looks so perfect - 5sos

sign of the times - harry styles

silence - marshmello and khalid

sleep on the floor - the lumineers

slow dancing in the dark - joji

solas - jamie duffy

soleil soleil - pomme

somebody to you - the vamps

someone like you - adele

someone to you - banners

somewhere only we know - keane

space song - beach house

sparks - coldplay

stella - cereus bright

stereo hearts - gym class heroes

stolen dance - milky chance

stubborn love - the lumineers

style - taylor swift

summer&cigarettes - sammy rash

sunkissed - khai dreams

sunsetz - cigarettes after sex

sweet creature - harry styles

sweet dreams, tn - the last shadow puppet

____________________

t |

take me home - jess glynne

take me home - cash cahs and bebe rexha

take on the world - you me at six

tenerife sea - ed sheeran

this is home - cavetown

this is how you fall in love - jeremy zucker

this side of paradise - coyote theory

this town - niall horan

till forever falls apart - ashe and finneas

tongue tied - grouplove

tonight tonight - hot chella rae

touch - sleeping at last

treehouse - alex g

the nights - avicii

the night we met - lord huron

the truth - james arthur

turning page - sleeping at last

____________________

u |

us - james bay

use somebody - shawn mendes

____________________

w |

wait - m83

waiting for love - avicii

wake me up - avicii

war of hearts - ruelle

watch - billie eilish

we are the champions - queen

welcome home - radical face

welcome to wonderland - anson seabra

what makes you beautiful - one direction

where is my mind - maxence cyrin

when will i see you again - shakka

where's my love - syml

why'd you only call me when you're high - arctic monkeys

wildest dreams - taylor swift

the wisp sings - winter aid

wonder - shawn mendes

wyd now? - sadie jean

____________________

y |

yellow - coldplay

ylang ylang - fkj and ((( o )))

you & i - one direction

youth - troye sivan

young - vacations

____________________

[cherrybombusa]

GROUP ONE  - THE BASEMENT. SUCCESS.

PLAYERS:

THE ROMANTIC - Mackenzie Walsh.  THE MANNEQUIN - Caria Yildiz.  THE WRITER - Noah Russell. 

PERKS: 

COME HERE, LOVER BOY!: With Mackenzie Walsh in the group, it’s harder to fail! Mac and the Candy Girl’s love affair gained the group an extra advantage during the Puzzle, and gained them a Last Ditch Effort to get out of the room - but only if Caria gave up trying.

MEMORABLE MOMENTS: 

-CARIA FRACTURED HER SHOULDER.  -THE GANG CHOSE LUCK AND FAILED.  -THE GANG USED ALL THREE TRIES IN THEIR PUZZLE AND FAILED - BUT MACKENZIE’S LOVERBOY PERK GAINED THEM AN EXTRA SHOT. THEY ENDED UP SUCCESSFUL, AND FOUND THE KEY TO SAVE THEIR FRIEND.  -THEY EVENTUALLY ESCAPED THE ROOM AFTER CARIA GAVE UP TRYING. 

The day hadn’t been busy-busy until Mac  began setting up with the rest of the band - the perfect time for a Boardwalk employee to approach him!  Everything seemed to be going smoothly - at least from Mac’s end - but the employee insists that as the frontman of the band, a cord from the basement must be grabbed for his microphone. Mac doesn’t argue much - there’s no time to argue - he just needs to get back as soon as he can. @romxnticss​

The sun has been fixing it’s way over the horizon for what felt like far too long, but somehow the Minute-Makeover booth was still a-buzzing. Curling irons here, Mascara there - but somewhere within the chaos, a Boardwalk worker managed to grab Caria by the shoulder. Her mother was busy with a client, but the Boardwalk worker insisted that paperwork must be retrieved from a clerk in the basement, and it must be retrieved now - lest they pack up the booth ASAP. Caria hardly gets a look at the person - they walk away before any questions can be asked, but apparently it’s important that Caria gets to the basement as soon as she can. @manncquin​

A boardwalk employee grabs Noah by the shoulder as he’s walking down Roller Coaster Row - a little shocking, to say the least, but all is explained when the employee mentions Ronnie Russell and his need for Noah’s assistance ASAP. Apparently, there’s some table in the boardwalk basement that he needed to fetch for the booth they were setting up outside of the Main Stage. Don’t know why they asked Noah when they could have asked Casey, but… he better hurry. @thewriter-noah​

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your senior year of high school, and just… pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it? Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion, in the service basement of the Boardwalk, might not be so pleasant. It had only been a week ago that they were all huddled into another basement together, after all. Playing at the whims of a suspected lunatic, and baring their souls - and their tongues - to each other. Not even ‘a Day in Carousel Cove!’ could smooth over that awkward little blip, could it? Still, the three of them made their polite, familiar conversation. Mac laments about being late for his set, and Caria makes some excuse about having to get back to her mother… Noah may or may not be wondering why he’s there at all! But the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking from the far end of the room should be enough to cease all wonder. Jinkies, kiddos! Wonder what’s in store for you this time. NOAH: Noah would be lying if he said, having come down initially to find Mac and Caria in the basement alone hadn't set off some vibes that left him feeling sick to his stomach. While it didn't look like he'd walked in on anything especially scandalous, and their reasoning for being there all seemed legit, thoughts of what had happened between Caria and his brother crowded his mind as he began his search for the table. It wasn't like he'd ever suspected anything between she and Mac but the mistrust had it's way of playing out all sorts of scenarios in his head. At the sound of the door closing he paused as he gave a quick glance up in it's general direction before looking back to see if by chance the other two had left without so much of a word. "Did either of you find what you were looking for?" He asked shortly when he noticed they were both still there, feigning certain his uneasiness was playing tricks on him. THE NARRATOR: Just as Noah speaks, a clock in the corner of the room strikes 7:30pm, as does the watch of a masked figure, just outside the door. It’s time! But for what, exactly?

A moment later,  Dean Hargrove’s voice fills the room like a ghostly echo from the stage - welcoming the citizens to the boardwalk, and more... but just as suddenly as his voice appeared, he’s cut off by a voice they don’t quite recognize. A voice that might just damn them all.

CANDY GIRL: “REST IN PEACE TO OUR DEAR OLD LUX, BUT I HAVE NEWS THAT THE CHERRY TIMES IS TOO SCARED TO TELL! THIS WAS NO SUICIDE. LUX WAS MURDERED. THE QUESTION IS - WHICH ONE OF HER FRIENDS DID IT?”

THE NARRATOR: It was hard to imagine a chill didn’t run down the whole of Cherry’s spine at the implication; hard to imagine that her friends weren’t disgusted by it… Or at least acting disgusted.

CANDY GIRL:  “AND TO THAT LITTLE GANG! MAKE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE LATEST ISSUE. SOMEONE IS MISSING, AND YOU’RE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN FIND THEM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE. GOOD LUCK!”

THE NARRATOR: It would have been impressive timing if it weren’t so fucking frightening, but at just that moment, their very own issue of the Cherry Bomb slides beneath the door. It skids to a stop, right at their feet. 

The cover is collaged with photos of Lux - the inside? Crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course; that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl - kind of - but images of the blood soaked into her carpet. Still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived: those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for our ragtag little slice of the gang.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO. 

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

THE NARRATOR: Oh...my. Now, that’s a predicament, isn’t it?

I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key. Get out of the room, and… Maybe she doesn’t kill one of your friends. Maybe

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST ESCAPE THE ROOM, BUT HOW DO YOU IT? THERE HAS TO BE A KEY SOMEWHERE, SO HOW DO YOU FIND IT? BY LOOKING FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING] OR BY TEARING THE ROOM APART? [LUCK]

CARIA: Unquestioning dutifulness used to be chief among Caria's virtues, or at least it must have been, looking back. Not dutifulness out of any sort of filial affection but the point still stands: she's always done what's been asked of her. As it was, she barely blinked at the matter of paperwork. It checked out-- usually her mother has people to deal with the administrative side of things but a legal team for a day at the Boardwalk seemed overkill even to the unendingly ostentatious woman. And given the company Caria's ended up in the basement, she's all too happy to stay all the way adrift in her thoughts. Even the click of the door isn't enough to pull her back to reality. What is enough, however, is the unwelcome broadcast. 

She's never been good with these kinds of things. Maybe there's a way to look around at the small details and figure things out that way, but unfortunately how good she looked in tweed and faked a British accent had no real correlation to how closely her thinking could mirror Sherlock Holmes'. So, she does what she's only ever really let herself do in her imagination: She starts pulling the room apart haphazardly, hoping something helpful will happen upon her if she's desperate enough.

MAC: In twenty years, Mac had never exactly found himself in any high pressure situations. Perhaps it came from living with a self-proclaimed former hippie, or the fact that it was hard to build any real sort of stress in a record store, but regardless- he never saw himself stuck in the middle of this sort of thing. While his first reaction had been to head for the door the moment he heard Dean Hargrove's voice, still preoccupied with missing Mystic Cherry's set, the realization that they were trapped had slowly but surely sank into his brain. There's a pause as Caria starts tearing things apart, a moment to let his panic sink in, before he's starting on the other side of it, desperate for a way out and to the rest of their friends.

THE NARRATOR: In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to just start tearing the room apart. Mac and Caria look for nearly fifteen minutes - maybe twenty - as the chaos of everyone else’s night unfolds on ground level above them. They’re losing time, and coming up empty - it’s time for a new plan. 

The Candy Girl is cunning, and cold, after all. Meticulous. She wouldn’t be the type to just leave something where anyone could find it… Maybe. Looks like they’re playing Mystery Gang on this one.

MAKE A CHOICE: FAILURE. THE GANG HAS SUFFERED A TIME PENALTY DUE TO THIS ACTION. IT WILL NOW BE HARDER TO GET OUT.

THE NARRATOR: Looks like they're going to need clues to get out. Noah  stays focused on the sharpie scribbled riddle in the ‘zine while Mac and Caria raid the room for something useful. Not so useful, but strange enough to take note of? A cherry red briefcase, shoved into one of the dusty, storage lockers. Not only that… but maybe there’s actually more to the note than they thought.

MAKE A CHOICE: TRY THE CODE. 

NOAH: This was it. The first interaction with the allusive Candy Girl since the night of Lux's funeral but instead of having them all making out with one another she was sending them on some wild goose chase. Noah could barely control the slight trembling in his fingers as he attempted to put the code into the briefcase they'd found. Normally such steady hands with a pen couldn't find peace as he recalled the box that had arrived at his door only a week before. MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. SORRY.

MAC: Mac wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to know what was inside the briefcase, though his fear of whats inside soon turns into a fear of not being able to get inside as he watches Noah struggle. Quietly he takes the briefcase into his own shaking hands, inputting 2-1-3-4. MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. SORRY.

CARIA: Caria frowns and puts in 3421.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. 

NOAH: Noah took the box again and worked the numbers until they read 3-1-4-2.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS.

THE NARRATOR: The briefcase pops open and reveals a coppery key. Someone should probably try it in the door!

NOAH: Hearing the sound of the briefcase pop open came with a strange sense of relief as Noah pulled the key from the briefcase. "Jesus.." He whispered mostly to himself as he glanced back at Mac and Caria and made a point of dad jogging over to the door. The adrenaline still racing through his veins as he tried the key in the door.

THE NARRATOR: The key doesn’t even turn, and just like that… defeat rings through the room all over again. Wait, unless -

MAKE A CHOICE: TURN THE KEY OVER AND TRY IT THE OTHER WAY? [LUCK - HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]

NOAH: Noah paused, contemplating as he felt the key unwilling to move and made the decision to pull it back out of the door. "It's no fuckin good. They're toying with us. This isn't going to let us out." He said frustration thick in his voice as he shot a look to both Mac and Caria. "Any other hints we missed?"

THE NARRATOR: The sound of the clock ticking in the corner of the room is almost ominous as it continues on in it’s effort; keeping a steady beat to their struggle. They have to get out, or someone gets hurt… They have to beat the clock, but how long did they have exactly? And beyond that - how long would they be stuck down here until somebody found them? 

Maybe the door wasn’t so sturdy. It seemed old enough: they could try to break it down. There’s windows - high up, but windows nonetheless. They could climb it, if they needed to. 

And if desperation really struck? Well, they could always scream for help.

MAKE A CHOICE: HOW WILL YOU GET OUT? BREAK DOWN THE DOOR [STRENGTH], CLIMB THROUGH A WINDOW [FIGHTER], OR SCREAM FOR HELP [CHARISMA.]

CARIA: Caria gives a dubious look to her companions but seems to gather some kind of resolve. "If I could just get up through the window, I could get us out," she reasons with an uncommon amount of confidence to her voice, "Can you hoist me?" And then she tries to climb up with the others' help.

THE NARRATOR: If only Cherry High’s gym teacher could see Caria now! To coach her through the proper hand holding technique they had all learned during rock-climbing week. It’s a noble effort as she makes it halfway up the wall, but as a shelf tips forward, Caria topples backward. In the blink of an eye, she’s on her back in the middle of the room - a loud crack sounding from her shoulder.That’s definitely broken.

The other two crowd their Caria, trying to comfort her - promising they’d get her help as soon as they could. But it’s no use. Nobody knows where to find them; nobody can hear them. And nobody is coming for them.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU'VE FAILED YOUR PLOT EVENT.

CANDY GIRL: But wait! Who is that handsome boy in the back? Mackenzie Walsh Looks like my favorite boy has another shot. Let’s go, Lover Boy!

THE NARRATOR: Seriously? Fine! They had only been in here for a half an hour - maybe a little more - but somehow it felt like centuries. They were beaten, and broken down… They had fallen right into the Candy Girl’s trap, and like mice in a lab, there was no escape. Maybe. They could always keep screaming for help - but then again, what was the use?

MAKE A CHOICE: LOOKS LIKE YOU GOOFED IT - BUT YOU HAVE A SECOND SHOT. DO YOU ADMIT DEFEAT [SELFISHNESS] OR DO YOU KEEP TRYING TO SCREAM? [LUCK HIGH RISK - HIGH REWARD]

CARIA: There was no point, was there? Some tiny part of Caria insisted it wasn't, and yet it had to be. Her shoulder wasn't even what bothered her most. Even if she could get out (but what reason did she have to have ever hoped she could pull off some heroics?) it was undeniable that whoever was in that box never knew or liked her to the level she hoped. Probably, they blamed her for her relationship with Harvey falling apart, for Casey feeling hurt, for Lux dying. They were not her friends. They were unlikely to even like her that much Caria, who had been unintentionally tearing down others left and right, fostering nothing but ill-will. She felt humiliated, which was bad enough on its own but doubly so heaped in a pile in front of Noah, who probably hated her, and Mac, who probably would shortly. 

Why was she even doing this? How could she go back to the group day after day and pretend she belonged? Even if she swallowed her pride and went through the motions for the sake of retaining her place among them, Candy Girl knew the truth, which meant maybe others knew the truth, which meant she would have to sit there as the villain pushing others to suicide. She's crying. Of course she is. Messy, gasping sobs, as though she's been held too long underwater. "I can't do this. Let's not do this. I can't-" she tries to utter while struggling to breath through her crying, "No more."

THE NARRATOR: Maybe it was wrong to just sit down and let it happen to them, but what were they supposed to do? They were beaten down and broken… they had tried so hard, and failed. Why not just say, fuck it?

Half an hour goes by that feels like an eternity. Their friend quietly crying in pain; anxiety on high. Mac trying not to cry, himself. 

But the sound of footsteps from down the hall piques their interest. The sound of their voices all mix in one as they call out for help, and only a minute later is someone turning a key into the door lock.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS. YOU'VE ESCAPED… BUT ONLY BECAUSE THE CANDY GIRL GAVE MAC A SECOND CHANCE. YOU WON’T BE SO LUCKY NEXT TIME.

[440mxs-wife]

In the City

Supernatural meets Law and Order, Part Two

You climbed back into Briscoe and Logan's cruiser and headed to the crime scene. This time, it wasn't the park, but a neighbor's backyard that had the familiar yellow tape around it. The three of you walked up to Scott Rivers, the on-scene tech to get the facts of the case as he knew them.

"What's the story here?" Briscoe asked.

"Same as before, claw marks, heart torn out and looks like the body was dragged here from actual kill site," Rivers answered as he looked you up and down. "And who might you be?" he asked appreciatively.

"Mackenzie Reed, I'm a consultant hired to work on this case," you murmured as you walked around the scene. This was looking less and less like a werewolf attack to you, and more like something else, especially given the time of day. "Dammit. This is not good. Not good at all," you muttered.

You walked over to where Briscoe and Logan were standing with the tech, Rivers. "I think I've seen all I need to see, fellas. The rest can wait until we get the M.E.'s report," you declared. You got into the cruiser's back seat and Logan drove back to the station. Lennie bid you and Logan a good night and said he'd see you both in the morning.

"So, where are you staying?" Logan asked as you switched to the front seat.

"I was going to find some motel and hole up there till Sam and Dean got into town," you answered.

"Nah, don't do that. You can stay at my place," Logan offered.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Mike. I have a boyfriend, you know. I really don't think he'd be too keen on me spending the night in my ex-boyfriend's apartment," you explained.

"He knows we're still friends, right?" Logan asked.

"Yes," you responded.

"He trusts you, right?" Logan persisted.

"Me? Yes. You? Big fat negatory, Ghost Rider," you replied.

Logan chuckled. "Come on. I promise nothing will happen. We'll order some Chinese food from that place you love, we'll swap war stories, then we'll go to sleep. In separate beds," he added.

"Fine. You in your room, me on the couch," you declared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour later, you and Logan had arrived at his apartment. You dug out your pajamas and your toiletries, then asked if you could borrow a towel for a shower. He agreed, and asked what you wanted for dinner. After you gave him your order, you stepped into the shower to wash off the grime from traveling and the crime scene.

While you were changing, Logan called out to tell you that he was going down to the corner store. He wanted to get some beverages and snacks for later, so you told him what you wanted. Even though deep down, you suspected he already knew, given that you had dated for three years.

You stepped out of the bathroom, fully refreshed and dirty clothes packed back into your luggage. Your phone rang and the Caller ID said it was Dean. "Hey, baby, I was just thinking about you. Where are you?" you wondered.

"Pennsylvania. We'll be there tomorrow afternoon, like I thought. Did you find a nearby motel you could stay at?" he asked. "Kenzie?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "No, Logan offered to let me stay in his apartment. I'm sleeping on the couch, though," you added quickly. You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself for the firestorm.

"Kenzie, if he tries anything...." Dean started.

"He won't. Because he knows he's in deep trouble if he does. He knows I'm capable of kicking his ass and won't hesitate to do so if it comes to that. Which it won't," you mentioned. "I promise you, Dean. Logan and I are just friends. When you and Sam get here, we'll go to a motel. One room for Sam, and one room to have all to ourselves," you said in a sultry voice.

"You promise?" Dean asked.

"Of course, my love. I even remembered to bring my 'special jammies', just for you. For tonight, though, I'll have to settle for cuddling with an extra pillow that I'll pretend is you," you chuckled. Turning more serious, you continued. "I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that. I told the LT that you are my world. And I meant it, Dean," you finished softly.

"Ah, Kenzie, I love you so much," Dean whispered.

"I know, Dean. I love you too. Can't wait to hear you roll up in your badass car and step out in your leather jacket. You'll impress the hell out of Mike's partner, Lennie, I'll just bet," you grinned as Logan walked back through the door. "Anyway, Logan's back with some food, so I'll talk to you later. See you soon, baby. Sweet dreams," you replied.

"Sweet dreams of you, Kenzie my love," Dean responded then disconnected the call. You stared down at your phone, a loving smile on your face as you thought of Dean.

"Was that 'Loverboy' on the phone?" Logan smirked.

"Yes, that was Dean. And just so you know? He likes you about as much as you like him," you retorted.

"Oh, good, and here I was afraid we wouldn't get along," he responded sarcastically.

"Logan, can we please not do this tonight? Let's just catch up, swap some stories, then get some sleep, okay?" you asked.

Logan sighed deeply before answering. "Okay fine, you win. Eat some food, tell some stories, then hit the rack. Right?" he answered.

You took a step closer and walked your fingers up his chest. "And uh, Mike? If you, um, try anything?" you said in a husky voice. He nodded, then you grabbed his argyle tie and pulled him down so you were nose to nose. "I won't hesitate to kick your ass. I fight vampires and werewolves and all kinds of other creatures for a living. You know I can do it," you growled then released him.

He loosened his tie enough to slip it off over his head. "I suppose now is a bad time to tell you how turned on I am, right?" he asked. Over your shoulder, you flipped him the bird as you took a seat on the couch. Logan chuckled and shook his head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

True to your word, after you had finished dinner, you and Logan decided to swap some war stories. You told him about some of the close calls you had and he told you about losing his partner, Max Greevy. You expressed your condolences and mentioned some of the people you had lost along the way as well. Charlie, Bobby, Ellen and Jo. Then you regaled him with the story about the hunt at Plucky Pennywhistle's, where Sam was attacked by clowns. You assured him that it would make a lot more sense when he saw Sam in person. The big, tall moose of a man who was scared of clowns.

After the laughter between you died down, Mike looked at you and said, "Aw, Kenz, it's been way too long. I'm having a great time, talking with you like this. I've missed you," he admitted.

"I'm having a great time too, Mike. You've had my number saved in your phone after all these years. Why haven't you called before now?" you asked.

Logan paused before answering. "I dunno. I guess I kept waiting for you to come back here, back to me. We had something, Kenzie. You can't deny that," he replied.

"I know, Logan, but the key word is, 'had'. I'm with Dean now, and he's....he's it for me, Mike. I love him to the moon and back. He knows when I'm upset but trying to hide it, and he doesn't let me get away with it. He helps me through the nightmares. Dean has seen me at my worst, and he still loves me. For him I would die, and I nearly have. More than a few times. He's everything to me, and looks at me in return as if I'm everything to him," you finished softly.

"As long as you're happy, Kenzie. I hope I'm lucky enough someday to find someone like you again," Logan remarked. "Don't worry, I'm not going to come between you two. I'd like us to still be friends, though," he said with hope.

You sniffled and then smiled at him. "Deal. Now, no more chick-flick moments," you grinned.

"Right! You thirsty? Want something else to drink?" Logan asked as he rose from his chair.

"Nah, I'm good. I think it's time for me to go to sleep, though. It's been a long day," you replied. Logan agreed, and got out some extra pillows and blankets for you. "Thank you, Mike. I appreciate you letting me stay here tonight. For the record, I'm glad you called and asked for our help. Don't be such a stranger though. Call me once in a while, okay? Goodnight, Mike," you said as you gave him a hug.

"Goodnight, Kenz," Logan returned. Still love you, he silently added.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the way to the precinct, you and Logan stopped for a bagel and coffee. "Man, I forgot how good the food is here in New York," you said as you sipped your coffee. "The pizza alone is almost worth moving back here for. Almost," you added.

You spent the morning reviewing Briscoe and Logan's case notes and the M.E.'s reports from both crime scenes. Around lunch time, you got a call from Sam, saying they were only a few blocks away, according to his phone's GPS. You leapt out of your chair and headed downstairs to meet them, with Briscoe, Logan and Lt. VanBuren behind you.

Just as the Impala was pulling into a parking space in front of the building, you burst through the doors. You were so excited that you nearly tripped down the stone steps. Dean was out of the car almost before the engine shut off and ran towards you.

With a huge smile on your face, you jumped into his arms as soon as he reached you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands cradled his face. Dean had one hand on your thigh and the other on your back, supporting you. Your mouths had crashed together in a long, passionate kiss. When you broke apart, both you and Dean were grinning at each other, overjoyed to no longer be apart. He brushed your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. "Missed you, Kenzie baby," he remarked softly. "Missed you too, my love," you whispered.

Dean released his hold on you and lowered your feet to the ground, but held fast to your hand. You both turned to the two detectives and their lieutenant, who were grinning at the display they just witnessed.

"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" a voice from the Impala's passenger side boomed out in fake annoyance.

"Sam!!" You exclaimed as you ran over to hug the younger Winchester. "Hiya, Kenz. Great to see you, glad to finally be here," Sam chuckled. You hooked your arm with Sam and pulled him over to where Dean was left standing. You took Dean's hand in yours once again and intertwined your fingers.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Sam and Dean Winchester. Boys, these are Detectives Lennie Briscoe and Michael Logan, and their boss, Lt. Anita VanBuren," you stated. Everyone exchanged handshakes and pleasantries, then you all went inside.

Once you got back upstairs, you suggested meeting in one of the interview rooms. Sam and Dean followed Briscoe and Logan to the room. Lt. VanBuren got right next to you and held you back a bit by your arm. "Girl, you didn't tell me he was even better looking in person! Mmm! I'll say it again, your man is FINE!" she declared, as you chuckled.

Inside the interview room, you signaled to Logan to disconnect the cameras, and you locked the doors. "What we're about to tell you doesn't leave this room. The fewer people that know, the better. Logan already knows some of it, from when he and I were together," you said as you took Dean's hand in yours.

"From the information on the first crime scene, the M.E.'s reports and yesterday's discovery, I think what we're dealing with is a skinwalker," you announced. Dean looked at you in surprise, and you nodded.

"A skinwalker? What the hell is that?" Briscoe asked.

"A skinwalker is a cousin to a werewolf, so canine in origin. Which is why that's what I thought it was at first," you started. "The claw marks, the hearts missing, that usually points to a werewolf," you remarked.

"What made you change your mind, Kenz?" Dean asked.

"It was yesterday's crime scene. The first one was at night, in the park. Yesterday, we were called to a neighborhood, a backyard. And it was late evening, but not after midnight. More of a domestic setting, too," you emphasized. Dean looked down at his shoes and nodded, because he agreed with your assessment. That meant you'd have to change your strategy for tracking, fighting and killing the thing.

"Is all this stuff for real? I mean, I thought werewolves and such were just campfire stories meant to scare people," Briscoe interjected.

"Nope, Lennie, it's all real. When Kenzie left here to go home to Kansas, she said that her folks had been killed by vampires," Logan explained. "At first, I thought it was just some elaborate excuse to break up with me, but then she showed me her journal. All full of notes about this kind of stuff. What the thing is, where it lives, its weaknesses and more importantly, how to kill it," Logan finished. He gave you a quick smile to show you his support.

"What's unique about a skinwalker, is that it can change into a dog at any given moment. That alone is going to make things much more difficult, as far as tracking it down and killing it," Sam mentioned.

"In a city this size, with as many dogs as there are about? We're going to have to keep an eye on the parks and neighborhoods at night. Most likely for strays, or ones with tags but that are out wandering by themselves," you finished.

"Gee, and here I thought this was going to be difficult," Lennie muttered.

"So, how do we kill it, if we're lucky to find one?" Lt. VanBuren asked.

"Silver, through the heart," Dean answered.

"We still have some of those silver bullets, Dean?" you asked him.

He nodded. "Think so, Kenz," he replied. "We've got some you can just load right into a clip for your 9mm. But is there a garage or something I can pull into? I don't exactly want to do this out on the street," Dean explained.

Logan walked out to the Impala with Dean to show him where to park. Once they got into the parking space, Dean opened the trunk's secret compartment to get out the silver bullets. When Mike saw all the hardware, he gave a low whistle of appreciation.

"And all of this stuff kills one thing or another, right?" Logan asked, gesturing to the arsenal.

"Yep," Dean answered.

As Dean was digging through the trunk, the tension between the men was almost thick enough to need a chainsaw to cut through it. Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, thanks for letting Kenzie crash on your couch last night," he said gruffly. "It helped me to know that she's protected, even though she'll tell you she can do it herself," Dean added.

"Yeah, she's pretty independent, from what I remember. It was good to catch up with her, swap some stories," Logan replied. "And uh, you don't have to worry about me. I can tell how much she loves you, and I'd never come between that. As long as she's happy and you treat her right, that's what matters to me," Logan finished.

The two men shook hands, which seemed to ease some of the tension. Little did they know, but you and Lt. VanBuren were watching their interaction. "Well, I'll be damned. We might just be able to pull this off without them killing each other," you remarked.

"I didn't think Mike had it in him. You know, before Dean got here, I noticed something. Since you got here, Logan's been watching your every move. He still loves you," Lt. VanBuren observed.

"He said as much last night, but I told him about my feelings for Dean and how much he means to me. Logan said he understood and that he wouldn't come between us. We'll still be friends, though," you replied. The lieutenant seemed skeptical about that, but she kept her thoughts to herself for the time being.

Back up in the interview room, you all worked together to come up with a plan to find the skinwalker and eliminate it. Tonight, you were all going to the park dressed in regular clothes, like you were having a picnic of sorts. All the while, you would be keeping an eye out for dogs that may be candidates for the skinwalker. Even if it turned out to be a bust, at least you'd have the memory of a good meal spent together.

As you ate, various conversations filled the air. Lennie expressed his appreciation of the Impala to Dean, who didn't hesitate to boast about her attributes. Sam and Mike got to know each other a little better, while you and Anita quietly discussed the men sitting at the table.

At various times during the meal, you and Dean would lock eyes, and you gave each other a smile. Those moments warmed your hearts and made you love each other even more. Of course, everyone else decided to tease you about how "disgustingly cute" it was.

The real work began after dinner. Sam and Dean tossed around a baseball, while you and Logan took a walk together. Dean kept a watchful eye on the two of you, making sure to keep you in his sights.

"Relax, Dean, they're just talking," Sam said, interrupting Dean's surveillance of you and Logan.

"Yeah, Sammy, I know. Besides, I have a little game-changer in my pocket here," Dean grinned and tossed a small box towards his brother.

Sam opened it and gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Whoa, Dean. You mean this?" he asked.

"Sammy, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. She's my world, man. I can't see me growing old with anyone else but Kenzie. Maybe someday have a couple of kids running around the bunker, I don't know," Dean remarked.

Sam walked over to his brother to return the ring. "Well, I gotta say this. It's about damned time, Dean," he grinned. "I've watched the two of you over the years, man. There are no two people on this earth that are more meant for each other than you and Kenzie," Sam replied.

"Thanks, Sam, I appreciate that," Dean said. He looked up to see that you and Logan were walking back towards him and Sam. You stopped for a moment as your eyes met and you flashed him a brilliant smile.

Just as you were almost to where he was standing, a German Shepherd barreled into you, knocking you over. A man with dark hair, brown eyes and somewhat of an athletic build came running over to you. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I threw the Frisbee, but I thought he'd catch it before it reached you. Are you okay?" he said frantically.

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off. "I'm okay, please don't worry. It was bound to happen sometime tonight, park's kinda busy," you responded.

"Sarge, that was naughty of you to knock over this nice lady. Say you're sorry," the man admonished.

Sarge looked at you with deep sorrow in his eyes. You couldn't resist Sam's puppy-dog eyes, so you definitely couldn't resist the real thing. You reached over to pet him and scratch behind his ears. "Oh, it's okay, Sarge. You're still a good boy," you cooed.

"Kenzie? Baby, are you okay?" Dean came rushing over, checking you for injuries.

"I'm okay, Dean, really. You don't have to fuss," you pouted, but secretly loved his attention.

"Well, we'd best be on our way. Sorry about knocking you over, miss," the man said as he and Sarge departed.

Dean curled his arm around you, keeping you close to his side. You brought one arm around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder, your other hand resting on his chest. "You okay, sweetheart?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine, my love," you responded. You looked up to see him scanning the park and you could tell he had slipped into full-on hunter mode. You began to feel it too, like something wasn't quite right. "What is it?" you asked.

"Don't know yet. I don't think that was a random encounter. Something's off, and I think we should pack up and call it a day," Dean replied.

You both rejoined the group and helped pack things up. You agreed to meet at the precinct in the morning to share your thoughts about your encounter with the man and his dog. Dean drove back to the motel, his hand in yours with fingers intertwined. Once there, Sam went to his room, while you and Dean went to yours.

Dean threw his bags onto the floor next to the table and chair in the corner. You followed, and did the same with your bags. As soon as you closed the door, Dean had you pushed up against it, his lips smashed into yours with hot, devouring kisses. His hands roamed freely over your body, up your sides, your arms, and finally his hands cradling your face. "Oh, god, Kenzie, I've missed you so much," Dean whispered between kisses.

"I've missed you too, Dean. Holding that pillow last night was no substitute for the real thing," you replied breathlessly.

You broke apart long enough to help each other get undressed, then you met again beneath the sheets. Dean raised up on one elbow, hovering over you a bit. The back of his hand brushed your cheek ever so softly, almost with a reverence. "I love you with all my heart, Kenz. You are one of the best things to ever come into my life. It was me and Sam for so many years, then you came along," Dean remarked.

He reached behind him on the nightstand and brought out a small, black velvet box. "I've loved you from the moment I met you. There's no one else on this earth but you that I want to grow old with. Mackenzie Reed, will you marry me?"

Dean opened the box to reveal a gorgeous diamond and white gold engagement ring. Tears sprang to your eyes and you covered your mouth with your hand. "I love you so much, Dean, of course I'll marry you!" you exclaimed.

He slipped the ring onto your left hand then captured your lips in a slow, sensuous kiss. "I love you, Mr. Winchester," you grinned. "I love you, Mrs. Soon-to-Be-Winchester," Dean replied. You celebrated your engagement with a night of passionate lovemaking with your future husband.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The man and his dog returned to their car. Shortly thereafter, two men stood beside the car, the German Shepherd no longer present. The dog had been replaced by a tall, well-built man with blond hair and brown eyes. "It's her. The one we're looking for, I smelled it. She's the one who killed my twin brother two years ago. Hunters," he snarled.

"What should we do, Karl?" the other man asked.

"Patience, Thomas. Patience. Besides, once we capture her, we'll have an added bonus. An additional piece of leverage to get those hunter friends of hers to rescue her," Karl explained.

"What? What 'leverage' are you talking about?" Thomas queried.

"She is with child," Karl grinned evilly.

Up next: Part Three

[bymoonchild]

Microwave (Mis)adventures (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, slight angst, smut / college!AU, roommates/housemates!AU, enemies to lovers!AU,  Warnings | Explicit language, lots of sarcastic banter, pillow-humping, masturbation, kitchen blowjob (!!!), eating out, fingering, creampie, cum-eating, unprotected sex  Word count | 20k

Out of all things to be afraid of, Jungkook, the seat-stealer of your 8am class and annoying housemate whom you despise with every fiber of your being, chooses to have a phobia of microwaves, but he loves buying microwaveable food – because come on, they’re irresistible – and you somehow find yourself getting dragged into his microwaves (mis)adventures. Cue chaos, sarcasm-laced banter and an unplanned romance.

After attending college for a good three hellish but somewhat fun (only because you live to torture yourself) semesters, there are six things that you think you’ve mastered. 

Sleeping at 6am and waking up just on time for your 9am the next day and ready to kick some ass. 

Relying on coffee – a true college student’s lifeblood – to survive the day. 

Pretending that you have your shit together – people around you think you have everything under control. You’re part of your faculty club, the editor of your school’s publication and also on the freaking dean’s list and have an immaculate GPA to maintain. 

Being a bitch because college has a lot of dumb people and you don’t understand how there are so many people with just one brain cell, that is almost close to none. 

Making lists because checking off each task from your list is as satisfying as sleeping in on a Friday. 

Making routines and sticking to them. 

So If there’s any skill that you’ve mastered, it should be these few, though it’s highly unfortunate that you can’t list any of the aforementioned skills in your resume. Skill number six is also your pet peeve and you just abhor, detest, loathe, fucking hate it when your routine gets all screwed up and just about everyone around you knows how anal you are about following your routines and you won’t hesitate to throw hands if something goes awry.

You’ve never imagined that you would actually be throwing hands until you see some stranger occupying your usual seat at your 8am lecture, for fuck’s sake. You’re not being territorial. There’s no such thing as assigned seats in college, but after the first week or so, people just got in the habit of sitting in the same spot – it’s like an unspoken decision. But your favourite seat is taken. Rudely taken by a mob of dark hair who’s casually scrolling through his phone. 

The nerve!

As if on cue, your vision flares red and your mind sorely screams at you to throttle him. Look, you’re not a convulsive human being and you’re definitely not that big of a bitch (at least not without a reason), but you spent the entirety of last night sorting out your team’s editorial calendar and making sure that everything is under control and you had to drag yourself out of bed at 7 in the morning with hardly any shuteye. You’re high-key regretting every single decision you’ve ever made and definitely not in the friendliest of moods to deal with a seat-stealer. 

So you stalk over to your usual seat, storming louder than usual with your bitchiest expression that you’ve been training since college started. 

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat, eyebrows raised tauntingly at the boy in front of you, who is settled way too comfortably in your seat. 

“Hi…?” The brunet stares at you unblinking, as if rummaging through the compartments of his brain for an inkling of a name or memory of you. “Do I—”

“You’re in my seat,” you cut him off curtly, impatience evident in your tone, barely giving him any time to register what’s going on.

“W-What?”

“This,” you point unabashedly to the chair he has his butt comfortably on, “is my seat.”

Something about his expression changes and his eyebrows start to crease, as though he’s starting to fathom what the heck is going on. 

At that, you frown back harder, all eyebrows furrowed and tightened jaw muscles. 

“But we don’t have assigned seats in college?” The latter challenges with a tilt of his head, arranging his features into a look of deep confusion.

This only prompts you to roll your eyes in disbelief, a flash of annoyance flitting across your sharp features. You’d like to think you’re not a bitch, at least not without a god damn reason and having your seat stolen during an 8am lecture is a good enough reason. 

“Yeah? I’ve been sitting in this seat for the past eight weeks, so your argument is invalid.” 

You riposte, not minding how lecture has long begun and the students around you are gaping apprehensively at the commotion you’re brewing up instead of listening to the professor. You try your best to ignore the burning gazes on your back. 

He remains silent, but his eyes are lit up as though he enjoys riling you up. 

“Um look—”

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you scrunch your eyes closed, trying your best to resist screaming in lecture as a burning sensation climbs up your throat. 

“Can you just, I don’t know, move? I’m already having a bad morning and I don’t need a seat-stealer to add to my hit list.”  

He gawks at you for a few seconds to see whether you’re pulling his leg about adding him to your hit list and wanting him to move, but raises his hand in mock surrender when he realises that you’re actually serious. 

Giving you his most I-don’t-give-a-fuck-anymore shrug, he mumbles while grabbing his bag, “Okay, fine fine. Geez, it’s just a seat.”

You wait as he moves out of the seat, before sliding into your seat promptly and you find your entire body relaxing out of instinct.

“You’re very welcome, by the way,” the stranger retorts with the same sarcasm that you very much do not appreciate, given your already rotten morning, but it doesn’t match up with the mirth lurking in his voice and grin on his lips. 

“T-Thanks,” you mumble under your breath, unsure of whether he caught it, but you have better things to worry about like catching up with the lecture and trying your best not to have a breakdown because your morning routine just got fucked with. 

Turning back again out of instinct, you see the boy shoot you another weird look before moving to the back of the LT. 

You feel your heart skip. In anger or something. You look away, appalled by the audacity of him – how he can still look at you in the eye when he just did the most despicable thing on earth. 

For the next two hours of lecture, you find yourself incapable of concentrating, mind invaded with thoughts of that seat-stealer. You’re not sure where he has moved to, too caught up in basking in your own internal pit of resentment and memorising every detail of the seat stealer’s cute face so that you can punch him the next time you see him.

Wait…

Cute?

As the overused saying goes, it’s just a bad day, not a bad life – and honestly, you really want to believe in that cliché encouragement. With the same lack of vigour from this morning, you head back to your apartment after class and desperately hope that none of your housemates would be home because you could really use some peaceful alone time. 

You share an apartment with three other friends – Namjoon whom you met through the student union (he’s the Vice President and you work under him as the editor of the editorial committee), Sooyeon aka your best buddy who unconditionally puts up with your angsty ass and Jimin, Sooyeon’s loverboy who’s part of your school’s dance crew.

But instead of coming home to peace and comfort, your eyes land on someone whom you’ve never expected to see again the very moment you push open the door. Let alone in your fucking house. 

The boy, too, seems to be appalled by your appearance. “Hey, you’re—” 

You point at him exasperatedly, mouth agape. “Oh my god, you’re the freaking seat-stealer!”

Your surprise is initially mirrored on the stranger’s face, but he recovers it quickly and even chuckles at your histrionic outburst. “Wow, nice to meet you too?”

For a good thirty seconds, silence and thick tension pervade the air as you smoulder with rage and confusion, until the boy begins to speak up again. 

Scratching the back of his head, he chuckles dryly, “I swear I’m not here to steal your seat whatsoever.”

“Then what the heck are you doing here—shit, are you the new housemate?”

“Yep,” he replies pompously, emphasising on the ‘p’. 

He sees you freeze up, how your eyes twitch a little, before you unabashedly blurt out a “fuck my life”, entirely disregarding your new housemate. 

“Namjoon could have warned me beforehand about having a seat-stealer as our new housemate. Seriously.” 

“Um,” he ignores your blunt cavil and extends out of his hand with a small smile. “I’m Jungkook.” 

You gawk at his hand, affronted that he thinks you’re down for a fresh start because your day has been ruined because of his stupid ass who decided to take your seat. 

Look, it does not seem that deep, but it is, in fact, that deep. 

Everything has gone downhill after your encounter with the seat-stealer. After lecture, you planned on heading to the canteen to grab food before your next class which you had a mini-quiz for, but due to the little fiasco during lecture which involved the unapologetic seat-stealer, you had to stay behind after lecture to clarify the content that you missed out with your professor, and then you missed the bus and couldn’t get to the canteen in time. In the end, you had to do your test hangry, so you definitely have every single right to be angry. 

It is just the utmost unlikely of tragedies to meet this Jungkook dude twice in a day, and now he’s your new housemate? Fuck no. 

“And you are…?” He grins awkwardly, hand still hovering in mid-air. His large, almond eyes regard you with keen interest, but you choose not to relent. 

“Getting the fuck out of here.”

You spit, spinning on your heels to thunder down the hallway and retreat to the comfort of your room. But before you slam the door to get the boy away from your sight, your conscience stops you.

Come on, you’re not that mean to leave him there without giving him the Pep Talk. That would be the least you could do. He should take that as your warm welcome and the last interaction you two would ever have. 

“So um, Jungkook, right? We have a few rules here. First off, don’t leave your trash out in the living room, throw them in the bin or recycling bin if you need to. Secondly, label your food in the refrigerator properly. Thirdly, I’d appreciate it if you don’t talk to me. Ever. Okay, yeah that’s all. Thanks, bye.” 

The words taste bland on your tongue and the distaste is plain as day on your lips as you slam the door behind you, leaving Jungkook standing in the middle of the living room, staring blankly at your door like a lost child.  

Behind him, the door clicks. Jungkook turns around and sees Namjoon at the entrance. Finally, his savour.  

“Hey hyung!” He greets a little too excitedly. 

He first met Namjoon at a music festival, in which the older was in charge of. At that point in time, Jungkook was a freshman and had just joined the dance crew (which was considered a feat for a freshman) and he had the chance to talk to Namjoon, in which he found him a really passionate and capable leader. When he found out that Jungkook was looking for an apartment in his second year, Namjoon being the wonderful gentleman he is, offered him their empty room – they needed someone to occupy the last room and it’s always better to have someone they know than a rando from the streets. 

And that’s exactly what happened. Exactly why Jungkook is standing in the middle of the living room awkwardly after being cursed at by a girl who is not only attractive to him, but also sardonic and sharp-tongued. And he just had to steal her freaking seat during lecture. 

“Sorry kiddo, got caught in traffic. I see you’ve met the wrath of Y/N?”

“Y/N…” Jungkook repeats to himself, but laughter pokes its way across mirthful eyes and tinted cheeks, displaying his bunny teeth in their full glory at the memory of your aggravated face. 

“She’s normally not like this, I swear. I don’t know why she’s so pissy today,” Namjoon shrugs as he removes his shoes. He then walks past Jungkook and ruffles his hair. 

“Maybe because I got on her bad side when I took her seat during lecture this morning?”

“Oh, that explains it. She doesn’t like… changes. She’s very anal about sticking to her routine.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“She’ll get over it soon, don’t worry.”

“It doesn’t seem like her hatred for me will end any time soon though.”

He pats Jungkook on the back, as if another way of wishing him luck. “Anyways, welcome to our humble abode! We have a few rules—”

“Oh, Y/N already went through them with me.”

“Great! My room is just beside yours, you can just pop by whenever you want, but I’m mostly not home. We have a cleaning and errands roster by the fridge, I’ve added your name to the list. Enjoy your stay, yeah?”

At Namjoon’s last sentence, your face pops up at the forefront of Jungkook’s mind. You’re intriguing, he would say. Very intriguing. Well, looks like it’s going to be one fun hell of a semester living and breathing in the same confined space as you. That, he can’t wait. 

It has been a tough two weeks living with Jeon Jungkook. He has come ramming into your life like a bulldozer, obliterating what little peaceful routine you’ve cultivated. Within the first two days, every fiber of your being has come to a consensus: you hate Jungkook’s guts. 

It’s as if he’s designated to cross paths with you to ruin your life. The very fact that you’re sharing a roof with him makes your blood boil and nerves shake with animosity and the number of times your subconscious has proposed strangling him with your bare hands is almost unhealthy.

But to your ultimate dismay, your other housemates have no qualms about accepting Jungkook – the impudent, cocky, dogmatic jerk who does not hold an ounce of consideration in his bones – and making him part of the gang. 

You, on the contrary, aren’t going to be deceived by his façade.

So you refuse to acknowledge his existence or give him the time of day. While it is almost impossible to fully avoid him because he does live in the same apartment as you, it still doesn’t stop you from not thinking twice about walking away in the opposite direction or pretending to be on your phone to avoid any potential social interaction with him when he’s in the proximity. 

Despite your reluctance, you do learn a few things about Jungkook from just pure observation or from your other housemates who, for a fact, can’t shut up about him. He’s a second-year Computer Science major, with a second major in narcissism and sarcasm (but he’s nothing compared to you), is in the dance team with Jimin, and is also a passive-aggressive and cocky jerk and proud anime weeb. 

He’s also very diligent. Diligent in pissing you off, that is. 

Thus, you’ve taken every liberty to flip him off whenever you could and it’s not as though your housemates are oblivious to your ongoing heated war with Jungkook – they just choose not to care, also because they find your discord with him very amusing. It’s their daily entertainment. But they’re mostly unbothered because Jungkook is causing misery to no one else in the apartment except you. 

You’re his only target. 

Which is weird because you like to think that you have a daunting presence which keeps most people away, accompanied by a temper too intolerable for people. But Jungkook, with his one brain cell, is unlike most people and seems to have a penchant for riling you (and only you) up, leaving all proper etiquette aside and pissing you off at the utmost degree. It’s either he’s plain dumb or lives to torture himself. Possibly both. 

Last Thursday, you came home to a battlefield, a war between a growing pile of dirty clothes strewn all over the living room (you’re pretty sure your housemates have started using one of the shirts as a rug) and takeout containers scattered all over the kitchen counter and living room. And all these were caused by the one and only Jeon Jungkook – who else would be this inhumane? Even Namjoon, the messiest person ever, cleans up after himself, or at least has learnt how to after living in a shared apartment. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, is incorrigible. But what you can’t understand is that he seems delighted to witness the consequences of his filthy tendencies.

Whenever you vociferate his name, he’s always carrying a smug and amused grin despite your evident irritation. 

He’s watching an anime on his phone on the couch when you stomp up to him and call him by his full name with your nastiest scowl. You usually try to be civil with him for the sake of your housemates, but your patience grows thinner than a thread every day, especially when he shoots you a cocky smirk, “Yes, Y/N?” 

Eyes ablaze with smouldering anger and fists jammed sharply into the flesh of your hips, tightly gripping onto the final shreds of your sanity, you say between clenched teeth, “Tell me – why are your things lying all over the living room? Do you or do you not have a fucking room?”

“Of course, I do,” he replies impassively, eyes still glued to his phone, engrossed in watching whatever’s captivating enough for the blockhead.  

Picking up a sweatshirt that hasn’t been watched in perhaps a month for good measure, you snarl, “What the fuck are you? A barbarian?” 

He looks up from his phone for the first time, the right corner of his lips curled into a lewd smirk. 

“Probably not that ugly – have you seen my face, Miss Grumps?” 

“You’re so full of yourself I might just barf at your face. And for the record, you’re not that good looking.”

“Really? I’d beg to differ.”

“The only begging you’ll do is at the doorstep when I finally kick you out of this apartment if you can’t learn to clean up after yourself.” 

Satisfied with your riposte, you hurl his clothes that you’ve dutifully picked up from all corners of the living room at his direction, but he catches them all with just one hand without even batting an eyelash. Damn dancers and their quick reflexes. 

“What? Impressed?”

“Hey look,” you assert, throwing your hands in mid-air and Jungkook’s eyes follow accordingly, staring blankly at them. “Look at all the fucks I give.”

His face drops when he realises that he’s been punked. “You’re fucking Satan’s child.”

You raise your eyebrows, mirth dancing in your orbs. Giving him a contemptuous round of applause, you dispute, “I’ve been called worse. Try harder.”

He doesn’t even need to look at you to know what kind of glower you’re boring on your face. It’s as if he has that distinctive expression of yours mesmerised and embedded in his memory. 

“Is that a challenge?” The smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“Only if you don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond and for a moment, you think you’ve got the upper hand. But your eyes gradually narrow to slits as he continues to make no inclination to acknowledge you. You realise that he has increased the volume of whatever shitty anime he’s watching. 

Fucker. 

As you gape at him incredulously, the gears in your mind spinning, there’s an unfamiliar prickle in your chest: competitiveness. You want him to bow down to you. You’re hungry to win. 

So given that skanky attitude of his, you, of course, have to retaliate by annoying the shit out of him as well. For one, you decide to drink his beloved banana milk, slurping generously on his endless supply for the next few days. The dude has two full cartons in the kitchen and you don’t want to know why. 

When he comes confronting you, you show him exactly no fucks given. 

“Where’s my banana milk?”

“Up my ass, bitch.” 

“What the fuck? That was my last one!”

“Oops, couldn’t help that I was thirsty!” 

By the anger that undulates from his pinched features, you don’t know why the fuck, but you have this wholesome sense of satisfaction knowing that he got his comeuppance. You’ve won this time and you want to continue to win. 

Oh, it’s on, Jeon Jungkook. It’s on. 

After the banana milk incident and many more that should not be mentioned, it is a known fact that Jungkook and you are profoundly contentious with each other and should never be allowed in the same room for everyone’s sake. However, God knows what went through your housemates’ minds when they thought it would be a good idea to call for a compulsory movie night. You couldn’t even excuse yourself from it without bearing the brunt of Sooyeon’s annoying pleas. 

“Look who we have here – Y/N!” 

You hear your name being slurred out on purpose a few inches above you. Looking up from your phone, you frown when your eyes land on your favourite nemesis, frowning in an instance. 

“Fancy seeing you here!” Jungkook grins smugly and you desperately want to wipe that smirk off his face. 

“Bitch, I live here.”

“Well, aren’t you just unapproachable today.”

“And yet you are here,” you scowl back. 

“Well, I am something else, aren’t I?” He smirks slyly with a victorious blaze flaring in his eyes. “Especially when you have the temper of a volcano that hasn't erupted in, say, a million years.”

The crease on your forehead grows and you click your tongue loudly when Jungkook settles himself comfortably in front of you on the floor. He even turns around to shoot you a guileful smile. 

“You’re a walking pest. The fucking bane of my existence. The devil incarnated,” you leer and he takes everything in with an amused and sinister grin before turning back to the TV. 

It’s not even halfway into the movie when Jungkook and you come into conflict again. You’re just minding your own business, watching Iron Man for the umpteenth time (you swear they only played it because of Jungkook and his obsession) when the said boy suddenly turns around and sneezes loudly. Directly at your face. He even has the audacity to laugh at your scrunched up expression. 

“Oh, sorry?” he chuckles, tilting his head slightly.  

“Sorry?” You flare up at him, throwing a pillow at his face. “You’re not fucking sorry!” 

At your outburst, a blanket of unease drapes the atmosphere and causes the attitudes of your housemates to go sour. Jungkook looks at the others who are all equally as shocked, except for Namjoon who looks like he’s enjoying what he sees because he is casually shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Um okay? Then I’m not sorry?” 

Huffing in disbelief, you clench your fists, tampering down the exceptional vexation that is tying knots around your throat, “Wow! And you’re taking it back now?”

Jungkook frowns, now completely exasperated and throws his hands in the air. “What the fuck do you want me to do? Make your mind, Miss Grumps.”

You gawk at him in disbelief, pointing to yourself while a humourless laugh escapes your lips, “Grumps? I’m not grumpy!” 

“Wow and I’m not hot.”

“You’re definitely not!” 

“Not only are you grumpy, you’re blind as well!” 

“Guys, stop it!” You hear one of the guys shout, but you’re too blinded by anger to turn to look at them. 

“Hey Y/N, calm down,” Sooyeon whispers, pulling you away from Jungkook. 

A surge of adrenaline through your limbs urges you to lunge forward and tackle him to the ground. But due to the choking rage that thickens at the back of your throat, you can’t seem to scream out coherently. Instead, an incoherent garble of insults escapes from your mouth.

“Jungkook, stop it – you’re going to drive Y/N mad,” Jimin pipes up from the other end of the couch, but has no real intentions of making Jungkook stop. The latter shrugs casually and turns back to the TV screen, leaving you fuming silently behind him. If looks could kill, Jeon Jungkook would be dead by now. 

By the end of the first month living with him, you’re definite that if there’s anything illegal you could do in your lifetime and get away with it, it would be to assassinate Jeon Jungkook with your bare hands. 

Jungkook has done a lot of stupid things in his twenty-one years of living, like any other dumb kid on the block. He has a full list of shall-not-be-mentioned past experiences because they’re really that absurd. Like climbing his neighbour tree and falling asleep till the next morning (and only realising that he had fucked up when a police car came to their house because yes, his parents called the freaking police to find the missing kid) and playing ghostbusters at an allegedly haunted warehouse with his brother (he caught a glimpse of a woman in white and thought he heard pained cries – and that was his consolation prize). 

So, he is proud to say that he is a man with no fears, or at least he likes to think that he is, because he knows that everyone else thinks that way too. He’s that designated friend who will catch your insects for you, go bungee-jumping without any hesitation and walk through a haunted house without screaming at all. He’s conquered all the possible fears little by little over the last twenty-one years of his life… Well, except for one. 

At 3am in the morning, he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen and staring at his one and only fear. He shudders at the thought of going near it and he doesn’t know if the churning in his stomach is due to his fear or just plain hunger – or both. He just needs to heat up his frozen pizza with the—

Oh. 

The microwave. 

The main source of his nightmares when his stomach decides to throw tantrums in the middle of the night. It’s the one fear that he has never been able to overcome because there’s always someone at home to help him microwave his food. If he’s at the convenience store, he’ll beg the staff to help him with it and he’s used to doing that – he’s proud to say that this mere desperate act has thickened his skin and boosted his courage.  

He halts in his tracks, staring blankly at the contraption, frozen pizza in hand. Well, he could just fuck it and eat it as it is, cold and sad but he could only imagine the countless of toilet runs following it. So no, thank you – he needs to heat up his pizza and he needs it ASAP before he faints from hunger. But as soon as he reaches out to the device, memories of his childhood trauma that he has been avoiding like the plague hit him square in the chest and he grimaces.  

He sees red waves of anger and hears roars of malice. Flinching, he takes a step back, fingers hovering over the open button. 

His stomach grumbles in retaliation. He stares at the refrigerator, contemplating whether he should whip up a simple dish instead of eating yet another microwavable junk (no offence to his beloved pizza), but decides against it when he opens the refrigerator for the nth time that night and gets reminded of how it contains not a single item that could be categorised as real food. There’s literally a carton of beer, a small pathetic stick of butter and a tub of kimchi, courtesy of Jimin’s mum. Well, he could just eat the entire tub of kimchi if he’s really that fearless. 

He’s really this close to eating his pizza cold until– 

“What are you doing?” 

Jungkook jumps out of his stupor, gasping unabashedly and almost drops his precious 10-inch pizza on the floor. Whirling around, he sees the bleary-eyed you propped against the entrance of the kitchen and he trips over his words at your sudden appearance. 

“Oh, h-hey Y/N…” He replies, but it sounds more like a squeak. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” 

His mouth does a weird, nervous thing that is probably supposed to be a smile but looks more like a wince.

“Once again, I live here.”

You gawk at him and the gears in your brain start to question the little remains of his own. You’re this close to biting his head off, but decide against it. Let there be peace tonight. 

Shutting his eyes, he wants nothing more than a bottomless black hole to open up before him and suck him in for good to avoid exposing his vulnerable side to you. Even a stranger could tell that you see him as an abomination – yes, you’ve made it that obvious – and he’s more than sure that the wrath of the sleepy you is tenfold worse than your normal contemptuous self. 

“What are you doing?” You repeat, because are you really interested in knowing what Jungkook’s up to at 3am? Not really. You have better things to tend to, like making your fifth cup of coffee of the day and tending to your paper that’s urgently due in less than three hours. 

“Well, the plan was to eat my pizza but I’ve got to heat it up,” he manages to sputter out, still grabbing onto his frozen cling-wrapped pizza for his dear life like a fool. As though you’re out to steal his food. 

“And…?” 

“And…”

“What?” You hiss in annoyance, squinting your eyes at him and he takes a few steps back from you. 

To be honest, you don’t even know why you’re talking to him. You should be cooped up in your room and smashing away at your keyboard, but you’ve been watching your stupid housemate stand idly in the kitchen for at least a good seven minutes, and he doesn’t look like he’s capable (or that he even has the slightest of intentions) of heating his pizza up. Well, maybe he likes his pizzas frozen and hard… Totally no judgment though. 

“Can you… Do you mind…” He mutters under his breath, staring hard at the ground and avoiding all eye contact with you. 

“What?”

“Um, I-I’m afraid of it.”

“Of what?” 

Slowly, he inches his head upwards and for the first time that night, he locks eyes with you. 

“The microwave,” he mumbles under his breath and you manage to catch it, but you question whether you’ve heard it correctly. 

Your mouth opens and then snaps closed. You repeat this in your state of stupefaction as your brain tries to process everything and a disbelieving “what?” floats through the appalled expanse of your mind.

He grunts loudly and buries his head in his cling-wrapped pizza. “For fuck’s sake. I’m scared of the fucking microwave.”

“W-What? Why?” 

“I’m scared that it’ll explode?” He asserts, looking away from you again. 

“Okay…” You inch closer, eyebrows raised teasingly, sarcasm laced in your voice, “So you’re making me microwave your pizza so that if it explodes… it’ll be on me—”

“W-What? No! Of course not! I just—”

A grumble from his stomach cuts him off curtly and he freezes like a rabbit caught in a snare.

Stifling a laugh, you tongue along the inside of your cheek, mulling over the proposition. Seeing how his eyes are glassy with desperation, you take his food from his grasp, stuffing it inside the microwave without hesitance. 

He backs away and cowers meekly near a cupboard when you close it shut. 

You prop your chin on your hand as you quietly watch the microwave roar to life. Behind you, Jungkook watches how your eyes follow the rotation of the plate in the microwave. Maybe because he’s starving and it’s late and he’s not thinking straight, or maybe it’s because he’s surviving on countless of bottles of Red Bull, but he thinks you look pretty like this, especially when you’re not being sarcastic or lashing it out at him. He appreciates how you don’t ridicule him further for his phobia. 

His little jump at the beep that signals that his pizza is done doesn’t go past your notice. Swiftly, you take out the plate and hand it to him. His hand brushes you gingerly when reaching for it and he beams when his pizza is finally not frozen and sad-looking. 

“Wow,” he chuckles dryly, “I didn’t think you would help me.”

"Bitch, I may be Satan’s child,” you grit, mocking his words, “But I’m not that horrible of a person to let you starve. Or eat frozen pizza for that matter. Give me some credit, will you?"

“You want some?” He mumbles with his mouth full. 

You stop to consider for awhile, but decide to fuck eating healthy. 

“Well, if you insist.”

“I didn’t. But go ahead.” 

At that point, Jungkook’s stomach grumbles for the nth time and you cannot help but grin at how dumb he looks. He laughs in return, flaunting his bunny teeth and then scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry, just a little hungry.” 

"It’s okay. At least you’re not eating it straight from the freezer.”

“Hey, I was really… desperate.”

Both of you don’t realise that you’ve spent at least five minutes standing in front of the microwave, bantering with each other. For god’s sake, Jungkook still hasn’t even taken a second slice, too occupied with teasing you.  

“I’ve got to… go back. My paper’s due in," you check your watch, "Fuck, 2 hours."

With a pizza slice shoved in his mouth, he laughs at your fumbled self and mutters something along the lines of good luck and a thank you. 

“Yeah, whatever,” you reply lamely, brushing him off. 

You return to your room with a smile curled up on your lips. But you swear that that doesn’t at all dull the disdain you have for him. 

After that incident, Jungkook has become a ghost. Not in that way, but he and his mop of raven black hair start to appear literally fucking everywhere in your view, haunting you like the plague, as though his mere presence in the apartment is not annoying enough already. Whether you’re queuing for food, getting your daily dose of caffeine or rushing for class, he’s somehow always nearby much to your dismay. The Computer Science block isn’t even near your faculty, so you have no idea why he’s hanging around the places you frequent. He’s a bug, you swear. 

Whenever you see him, he always has a grin on, which is neither snarky or cocky but you can’t deny that he naturally carries an aura of natural confidence, which amazingly moulds into palpable cockiness whenever you’re around. 

You don’t ever acknowledge him, though sometimes he will throw himself on you, begging for your attention to piss you off further. 

Like how one day after lecture, you’ve bumped into someone on your way out of the LT, causing the person to drop his books. You’re about to apologise because it’s only everybody’s natural instinct, but your face falls when your eyes land on the culprit’s face. Jeon fucking Jungkook. 

“Y/N!” He gasps dramatically, voice laced with faux-enthusiasm, “What a great coincidence!”

Rolling your eyes, you huff as you grab his books and shove them into his chest, “You did that on purpose.”

“Now, why would I do such a thing?” He chuckles boyishly. 

“Why are you even here?” 

“To bless you with my presence. Oh and the last time I checked, we don’t have assigned spaces, or seats for that matter, in college. I can go anywhere I want.”

You open your mouth, clenching and releasing your fists to tamper down the vexation that is threatening to escape your throat. You’re cracking your brains for a witty riposte, but all you say is, “Shut the fuck up.”  

You know you’ve lost the fight. 

Shooting him one last glare, you whirl on your heel, storming away from him and out of the building. Though the chilly autumn air is welcoming, heat sits high on your cheeks. 

You’re angry. Fucking livid. You feel hopelessly tormented by his stupid grin, his stupid almond orbs and stupid, stupid smirk. 

With no better place to obtain advice and vent till your mouth runs dry, you’re grateful when Sooyeon and Jimin ask you out for dinner and you spend the entire night ranting about the very bane of your existence, in hopes that they will show you the light on how to deal with that pest. 

“He’s fucking annoying. Like I don’t understand how someone can be this childish. He’s in college, for goodness’ sake! But he’s… so fucking immature like how the fuck!” You cry out as you stab your fork into another fry. 

“I honestly don’t understand why you hate his guts,” Sooyeon says. “He’s really not that bad…”

“Sooyeon, how could you!” You place your hand against your chest in mock offence. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“She’s right though. Jungkook’s one of the most affable dudes I know and he’s not a fuckboy,” Jimin shrugs, biting into his burger. “He’s not that bad, really.”

You mull over every single interaction you’ve ever had with him. Besides the usual squabbling in the apartment, you don’t have that many non-heated (read: civil) interactions with him, but they all fill you with anger and anxiety. 

Your friends don’t understand shit. They will never understand how it feels to be Number 1 on Jeon Jungkook’s hit list. 

“He literally hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t. Why don’t you give him a chance?”

“We are just polar opposites all right. Incompatible. It’s like he’s born to ruin my life.”

“He told me that you helped him with the microwave the other night?”

“He told you?”

“As a passing comment.”

“Right,” you clear your throat as your brows furrow, “Dude, how bitchy do you think I am?” 

“Out of 10? Maybe a solid 12,” Sooyeon teases. 

“Fuck you.”

“I said what I said.”

“I may be a heartless bitch, but I wasn’t about to let that boy starve. He just… looked so dumb standing in front of the microwave, okay? I just had to help him.”

“Who knew you had a nice bone in you?” Jimin shoots you a look and the humorous quiver of his lip is unmistakable.

“I’m nice, okay…” A little affected by their teasing, a bitter undercurrent cruises beneath your words.

“Aww sweetie, you’re nice, okay?” Sooyeon pats you on the back, “Though you act like a bitch, your heart is pure. If only people saw this side of you more often.”

Call yourself competitive, but this streak between you and Jungkook is impossible to be wiped out. He still tries to rob you of your seat in lecture and make your life a living hell with his stupid pranks and lack of proper social etiquette.

Nobody is actually surprised when the two of you come bursting through the doors during lecture at 8 freaking am for the nth time. Even your professor stops shooting you two a look that screams “what the fuck are you two on again”, but what’s more important is that you manage to reach to your seat, yes, your seat before Jungkook could beat you to it. And he spends the next two minutes scrambling to find one in the crowded LT. You can’t explain how satisfied that makes you feel.

Towards the end of the lecture, you find yourself lifting your eyes and turning towards Jungkook’s seat, only to find him already gazing directly at you. You twist your lips, rolling your eyes disdainfully, and shoot him a cold-eyed stare that has most people cowering. But Jungkook of course, is not like most people, and just stares back at you stubbornly, his gaze piercing. 

You try your best not to break the eye-contact, but it’s hard when there’s a heat simmering under your skin, tinging your cheeks a translucent pink. 

“You win,” he mouths out. 

You stick out your tongue at him, who reciprocates your childish antics and soon, both of you fall into a contest of who can make the ugliest face. Jungkook starts to change up his retaliation strategy, flaring his nostrils and crossing his eyes and you have to stifle your laughter throughout the lecture. 

When lecture finally ends, he’s about to pack his bag when he hears the telltale sound of a camera shutter and he whips his head around absent-mindedly. 

“D-Did you just take a photo of my face?”

“And if I did…?” You shrug, waggling your eyebrows.

“Delete it, Miss Grumps!” 

“Pay me, bitch.”

He lurches for you and hooks an arm around your neck in a headlock, hunching over your torso and nestling your face against his stomach as you squeal out of surprise. The students around you stare at the both of you blankly, confused as fuck. 

Do you guys… like or hate each other? 

“Fuck off, Jeon!” 

“Pay me, bitch!” He mimics in a pitched voice to mock you. 

You refrain the urge to screech, but there’s a wide grin playing on your lips. There’s a strange tightness in your chest – your heart is swelling and you can feel it swell everywhere, the tightness fluttering throughout every vein in your body. 

To your housemates’ relief, the intensity of your discord with Jungkook has decreased tremendously and you no longer have a strong desire to bite his head off, but old habits die hard and he’s still up your ass. 

He’d be the reason why the shoes at the entrance are always a mess, why the toilet seat is always up (at least he cleans up, thank god), why your cereal is always finishing so fast, and also the only reason why all your snacks are now on the highest shelf and you’re not exactly the most vertically inclined. It’s like he’s doing this on purpose. 

“Jeon Jungkook!” 

“Yes, Miss Grumps?” He answers from behind and you whirl around, only to shriek when you see a shirtless Jungkook in front of you, hair still damp from his shower, and rivulets of water snaking down his collarbones and down to his bare torso. He is adorned in only a pair of low hanging sweatpants that show off the ripples of his toned chest and arms and the trail of soft hair down his navel.  

“What are you doing?” You screech at him. 

“I just came out from the shower and you called for me…?” He replies in confusion, but the smirk that plays on his lips doesn’t escape your notice. 

“Why the heck are you not wearing a shirt? Do you not have enough white shirts to wear?”

“Why? Like what you see?” 

“I might just have to gauge my eyeballs out.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, grumps. And for the record, I could never have enough white shirts.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. It’s really hard to not stare at his body, or drink in the view (you’d rather die than admit that he is fucking swole), but you remind yourself of the reason why you called him in the first place. 

Pointing to the highest shelf which is painfully out of your reach after rummaging through the kitchen cabinets like a squirrel in November, you glower, “Can you kindly enlighten me as to why the heck are all my snacks up there?”

With a faux-innocent expression, he chuckles dryly, “And why do you assume I know the answer to that?”

“Because no one in this apartment is as annoying and childish as you and your shrivelling one brain cell.”

“Really? I’d say that you’d make an equally strong contender.”

A taunting smirk inches its way onto the edges of Jungkook’s lips and you want to sock him in the face and wipe that vicious smirk off his lips. 

“Next time if you need help, a please would be nice.” 

“I wouldn’t need help in the first place if you stopped putting my snacks on the highest shelf.”

Shrugging, Jungkook uncoils from his slouch, rising to his full height. You draw in a furtive breath, painfully aware of how his frame looms over you, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your belly, but the sheer tactile sensation that sends a chill down your spine is electrifying. 

As he effortlessly reaches towards the highest shelf, you realise that his face is so close to yours that you could memorize the flecks of amber in his dark orbs, the curve of his mouth, the long eyelashes that frame his sparkly doe eyes, the little mole under his lip and the tresses of smooth hair falling into his eyes. 

As if on cue, his eyes land on yours. A stunned silence encompasses the space between you, sitting heavily in your lungs. He stares at you with a scrutiny that has you breathless, like he is drinking every inch of you in. 

A softness settles into the lines of Jungkook’s face, but it disappears instantly when his lips quirk in the corners.

“Now, what would you do without me?” He teases, his voice is deep in timbre and so quietly convinced that it permeates through every last ounce of irritation and you feel a flutter in your chest. 

You don’t reply. 

Jungkook continues to drink in the sight of you and the closeness of you. Heart thumping away, you suddenly find Jungkook’s hands on your waist, startling you out from your trance. He then leans closer towards you until the tips of your noses are brushing against each other. 

A blush blooms over your cheeks and snakes furiously down your neck when the sudden intimacy of the moment draws upon you. His eyes are soft and there’s a wisp of a smile on his pink lips. 

A witty comeback stays bubbled in your throat at the proximity and you forget how to speak. You swear that he can practically hear the gears in your brain turning frantically because right now, you can only think about how his touch on your waist burns, how ticklish his breath is on your face and how warm it feels to be pressed up against his broad frame. 

“You’re very welcome, Y/N.”

Drawing in a furtive breath, your hands fly up to shove him away. How could you think that Jungkook was decent? He’s practically a living devil. 

“Y-Yeah, whatever.”

“Geez, when will you ever start being nice to me?”

His eyes continue to search through yours, but you refuse to give him the time of the day. You just wonder why he always looks at you like that, with the annoyingly bright glint in his eyes. 

“When you stop being annoying.”

“But I will never stop annoying you.” 

He pinches your nose and you freeze once again, warmth scattering over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh at the sudden contact. 

His words are laced with a hint of ardour, but he does his best to conceal it as a small smile appears on his lips. “Good night, grumps.”

“Nights,” you mumble under your breath as he retreats back into his room. 

Gaping blankly at Jungkook’s bedroom door, you raise a hand to rest on your cheek as warmth continues to flare in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink. 

Back in the quiet confines of your bedroom, you spend a lot less time completing your work as you should, and a lot more daydreaming about firm arms and twinkling eyes. You can’t deny that he has really pretty eyes. And a nice bod, if you might add. 

You think back to the smile that he flashes you. His smile isn’t one of those sarcastic ones that he wears when he’s challenging you, but a genuine one that makes the stars in his eyes come to live, waving to you with their little glowing hands.  

This is not good.  

The warmth at the pit of your stomach never leaves – it has wholly decided that it’s here to stay. As long as Jungkook is involved.  

A loud, piercing siren jolts you out of your sleep and you grouchily turn to glare at your clock. The luminous numbers of 3:19am scream at you and it takes every ounce of your being not to scream back at it. 

“Fire drill, guys!” One of your roommates – you think it’s Jimin but everyone kind of sounds the same with hoarse voices at 3am – shouts over the shrilling pain. “Get your asses out of your beds!” 

Groaning loudly while making a mental count of the minutes of precious sleep you’re about to waste, you pull yourself out of bed and rush out of the dorm without fumbling for your jacket. That’s a very bad decision, you realise, because it’s fucking freezing outside. 

Amidst the sea of blur faces, loud groans and unabashed yawns under the moonlight, a particular back catches your attention, alongside the dishevelled bed hair and long limbs clad in a bright yellow jacket. You squint your eyes at the particular colour of the outfit and you realise that it’s a fucking Pikachu sleeping set.

And it belongs to none other than Jungkook. 

“Jeon,” you grumble beneath your breath. 

He does an absentminded turn and gawks blatantly at you, before breaking into a chortle, doubling over. 

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Me? Your eyes trail down to your pyjamas and you freeze for an infinitesimal moment, as if paralysed when your old and worn-out Pooh Bear shirt and pink floral pants come into view. Really, what the fuck are you wearing. Considering that this is hell week, you haven’t had time to breathe, let alone have time to do laundry, so you could only settle with your old Pooh Bear shirt. 

Biting back your embarrassment, you hiss, “What the fuck? At least I’m not wearing a Pikachu sleeping set.”

“Hey, don’t you dare insult my precious childhood friend like that.” 

He feigns aggravation, but the expression on his face is a cross between amusement and endearment, and the way it makes your heart soar terrifies you.

“You’re impossible,” you let out a hearty laugh. 

At this, Jungkook feels a little warm inside his chest. He kind of wants to hear this laugh more and often. Believe it or not, even in your sleepy state, he thinks that you look lovely. 

He opens his mouth, ready to continue the banter, but someone calls your name from behind and you turn away from him.  

“Y/N!” 

“Oh hey, Jooheon.”

You have Ethics class with him, but you’re not that close for him to come up to talk to you. Heck, you didn’t even know that he stays in this block. 

“I can’t believe they have a fire drill at this timing. That’s like… illegal.”

Beside you, Jungkook has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Jooheon notices that the latter’s loitering awkwardly around you and glaring intently at him, but chooses to ignore his piercing stare. 

“Right, so um, you needed something?” You ask, cocking your head slightly. 

“Oh no, just thought I’d say hi. You look cute in your PJs.”  

Even though this is Jungkook’s first time meeting this Jooheon dude, he already decides that he doesn’t like him. Not even one bit. Jungkook’s usually great with psycho-analysing people at first sight and there’s something immediately off about Jooheon. He can feel it in his bones. 

He continues to glare intently at Jooheon and then he realises that the jerk is blatantly staring at your boobs. You’re not wearing a bra and your worn-out Pooh Bear shirt does nothing to hide your nipples that are now perky from the cold. 

“So Y/N, do you want to go out—”

“Y/N!” Jungkook screeches on cue, causing you to jump in shock. 

You jerk your head at your housemate’s sudden outburst and thank god for him, because you don’t really want to listen to the end of Jooheon’s question. Jungkook’s doe-like eyes, which are notably round like a deer caught in the headlights, are now narrowed angrily and the deep crease between his eyebrows mars his honeyed skin, further accentuated beneath the hazy yellow lamplight.

“What—”

You’re about to ask what’s up with him, before he cuts you off by grabbing hold of your wrist, tugging you away from Jooheon’s predatory gaze. 

“For fuck’s sake Y/N, c-can you please?” 

“What?”

Jungkook strips himself out of his oversized hoodie and unabashedly throws it over your head as you scream at his abrupt antic, struggling to rid yourself of his hoodie. 

“Just keep it on!” He seethes in conviction, wrestling the hoodie down on you and you realise that it smells so potently him.  

“Why?”

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he whispers sternly in disbelief, teeth clenched, as his gaze slips southward from your face. His arms fold indignantly over his chest in rage and you blatantly ignore how the lean muscles of his biceps peek out of the sleeves of his thin white shirt. 

“O-Oh… Right. Shit, sorry.”

You flush from the tips of your ears down your neck. Your fingers start to pick at a frayed thread of his hoodie under the weight of his intense starry-eyed gaze. Lowering your eyes, you stare at how your frame is drowning in his hoodie and think about your dear Pooh Bear smiling underneath the soft cotton. It looks big on you, but it makes you feel so warm, causing a tingling warmth of sweet honey gold to reach even to your own fingertips. 

“Keep the hoodie on till we get back,” he mutters, his raspy voice echoing with timber, rich and velvet.

He settles his arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to your other housemates. You ignore how tall he is beside you, how protective he is over you, how gallant you thought he was when he just tugged you away from Jooheon. You ignore how his signature scent wafts through the air. It’s a comforting, homey that rests softly on your nose. 

As you walk to your apartment with Jungkook and the rest with his arm still around you, a subconscious smile pulls at your lips until your cheeks ache and you don’t care if people think you’re on crack for smiling so widely at 3am after a fire drill, because the sound of your erratic heartbeats echoes louder than any siren.  

Vines are entangling the hole in your heart, buds sprouting on the outskirts.

Your heart is blooming. 

And you don’t know how to feel about this. 

It’s a Friday night, which means that you, being the homebody you are, have holed yourself in your room, content with a cup of hot tea and your laptop, while your housemates are out partying and having a life. 

You’re on the way to the kitchen to refill your tea when you pass by Jungkook’s room. His door is left slightly ajar, though the room is dark and your footsteps come to a halt. Jungkook normally leaves his door shut, while the others like to keep it open regardless of whether they’re in or not. Curious, you slowly walk towards the door, peeping in through the side of the door frame.

And the view that lies upon you leaves you in utter shock, rendering you speechless. Your jaw drops, your mind losing all semblance of focus while your train of thought diminishes like an exploded lightbulb. 

The room is pitch dark, except for the moonlight filtering through his gossamer curtains. But you can see Jungkook clearly. On his bed where he lies. Bare thighs caressed by his fluffy blankets, boxers tugged down to his ankles, and thighs spread apart. 

You know he is swole, but damn seeing his naked body in its fullest glory? Fuck. For the longest time, your eyes linger on the very harsh lines and sculpted muscles of his hard toned thighs. You’ve never mentioned this to anyone, too ashamed, but you do know how to appreciate nice thighs. And Jungkook’s? The bomb. Hella thick. But your eyes almost bulge out when you realise the very reason why he has his head tossed back and eyes shut closed. 

He’s jerking himself off. 

Gulping to yourself, your very first instinct is to pretend that you didn’t catch him in the act and simply go back to what you wanted to do in the first place – to refill your tea, but your eyes can’t seem to look away from his hand that’s tightly gripping around his throbbing length, which peeps out every now and then as he pumps himself vigorously. 

Your eyes trail up to his golden skin, his chest that’s glistening with beads of sweat and the hazy expression on his face and then southwards again to the popping veins on his arms, his sculptured abdomen and even lower, to the line of hair and veins trailing towards his aching length. Caressing his slit with his thumb, he spreads pre-cum all over his tip and continues stroking his dick at a fast pace. 

You can’t even count how many times you’ve cursed within the last minute, your mind a clouded, salacious haze. 

What’s dirtier than your subconscious thoughts of wanting to suck Jungkook dry and be fucked by him into the next century is the hoarse moans and sweet whimpers escaping his lips, reverberating through the room. The lucid squelching and sticky sounds from his hand and wet dick are absolutely sinful, but so, so tantalising to your ears and wetness starts to pool between your thighs.

He suddenly sits up and throws his boxers on the ground and for a moment, you think that you’ve been caught red-handed and quickly hide behind the door. But instead, he grabs his pillow and positions it underneath his crotch, slowly rocking his lips against it. Within the slightest of seconds, he starts to grind against it, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. His teeth even sink into his bottom lip to suppress the moans threatening to escape his lungs with each grind. 

"Oh god, Y/N," he whimpers, once more looking down at his pillow between his legs, precum smeared all over the pillowcase. 

You freeze. 

What the fuck. Did he just moan your name? 

You’re supposed to oppose to this, scream at him for getting off to you. But at the sound of your name, a primal instinct has been instigated deep inside you, lighting up a hungry flame within you. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping to Jungkook getting off, but what the fuck. The way he’s moaning your name so keenly, as if it’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world, spikes goosebumps along your arms. His moans are so hot and filthy that you’re panting softly at the increasing volume of his honey-dipped voice and you can’t help but rub your thighs together. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, grabbing the pillow closer to him so that he can buck against it better. “Babe, fuck yeah.” 

As he continues to moan louder, heat travels through your body in electric arcs, paralysing you and tensing your muscles. 

He’s suddenly arching up and you watch as his hands go back to wrap around his cock. He pumps himself faster and sloppier than before, determined to reach his climax. After a few seconds, he stutters before letting out an ardent groan, enjoying the waves of pleasure that deafens all of his senses. You watch with wide eyes as he milks out spurts of cum onto his clenched abs and pillow, still moaning your fucking name unabashedly. 

Chest rising and falling in quick succession, a stupid hazy smile then plays on his lips and heat returns to simmer under your skin, tingling your cheeks a bright cherry red. There’s this insinuating urge coursing your veins, causing your pussy to quiver in need. Your panties are all soaked.

Fuck. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to sit on his dick. 

Let’s be honest here: there have been some changes in your relationship with Jungkook. He has been occupying more and more of your mind. The memory of him in his bed with that fucked-out smile of his keeps resurfacing in your mind like a bad heartburn. It has you weak in the knees. You can’t stop thinking about his face. And his fucking dick. And him dry-humping his pillow. 

You can’t stop thinking about Jungkook and him stroking his dick, coming while moaning your name for fuck’s sake. 

You don’t stop repeating the scene of his hand around his dick going up and down until you hear it: the scraping of a key inside its lock. You listen to the familiar sounds of Jungkook kicking off his shoes on the floor, and then two seconds later, he’s appearing in the entryway to the living room, his charm already so damn loud in the stillness of the apartment.

At the very sight of his face, the many lewd images of your housemate flash before you. You grimace at the taunting visual, suddenly remembering that you were nearly overcome with your desire to lick every inch of his golden skin and suck his aching dick. 

This is going to be awkward. 

Sensing that you are extra quiet because you’re not barking at him about god’s knows what, he saunters over to the living area where you are mindlessly scrolling through your phone, “Hey, you okay, Miss Grumps?” 

“Yeah, just… tired,” you croak awkwardly. 

“Don’t you have classes till 7pm?”

“You remember my schedule?”

“Y-Yeah? You always come back late on Thursdays.”

“O-Oh right,” you mutter. Your other housemates remember your class schedule and it’s totally normal so that they know when to expect you, but somehow it’s different when it’s with Jungkook. 

“Decided to skip class today. Wasn’t feeling well.”

A look of concern flashes across his face. Dropping his bag on the floor, he walks towards you and presses the back of his hand on your forehead, worry burning at the edges of his regularly-cocky tone. “A-Are you okay?”

Your face burns at the touch of his skin and you tense up instantly. 

Sensing that you’re all flustered, like there’s a fire in your stomach and the sparks are floating up into the darkness of your eyes, he jokes, “You’re not extra grumpy for someone sick. That’s strange.” 

“Shut it, would you?”

“Alright, I take it back.” 

He pauses for awhile, looking at you up and down before adding, “Is that my hoodie?”

Tilting your head slightly, you instantly look down and gawk at your outfit. You’re wearing your favourite black Puma hoodie – what is he going on about? You are wearing your hoodie… except that it’s 2 sizes larger.  

You bring up your sleeve to smell the fabric and then it hits you. A familiar and refined homey scent, mixed together with your honeysuckle perfume. The familiar awakening tingle shoots down your spine once again. 

“Oh my fuck, shit I’m sorry,” you proceed to tug it over your head. 

“It’s cool, you can keep it.”

“What? You don’t want it back?”

“What? I-I mean, it looks good on you.” There’s an uncharacteristically softness that invaded his velvety voice, “So keep it.”

You look up at his face. You can’t place his expression exactly – it’s a combination of amusement and endearment, but the way it makes your heart pitter patter terrifies you. It’s like you’ve just been drenched by a downpour. A downpour of something you’re not sure you understand or ready to understand. 

You try to pretend that you haven’t been nuzzling your nose into the hoodie the entire day because it smells like home. You’re just frightened of how much you’ve grown to adore it. 

Jungkook doesn't know if there has ever been a thicker or a more dense tension hanging in the air around the two of you and it only seems to be getting heavier with each bated breath. He has a difficult time trying to develop a grasp of diction as he stands in the doorframe of your room, gripping the doorknob with a bit more force than usual, staring at the girl before him. 

He finds you hacking away on your laptop, surrounded by mountains of papers and highlighters sprawled all over your desk. He knows better than to disturb you when you’re deep in concentration, but he has accidentally bought too much food and figures that he could share some with you. 

Jungkook realises one thing: no matter what you’re doing, he always finds himself sneaking glances at you. He likes watching how your eyes narrow when you’re concentrating, your little mannerisms – like the little pout on your lips when you’re keyboard smashing and how you tend to crack your knuckles when you’re stressed. He doesn’t even know he has taken in all of your little habits and registered them into his brain, but what he knows is that: his eyes always search for you, no matter where and when. Whenever your eyes light up with a smile to match, he feels as if he might as well be caught on fire. 

He hasn’t called out for you yet, because he knows that you love to drown yourself in loud music when you’re studying so he stalks over to your desk and gently taps you on the shoulder. 

You jump slightly when you feel a hand on your shoulder and sigh loudly when it’s just Jungkook and his stupid wide grin. 

But your eyes soften at this smile. His doe eyes are crescent-like whenever he smiles – they’re always so bright and expressive with a mesmerising, enticing gleam. 

“Have you eaten?” 

Removing your earpiece, you shrug, trying to maintain an unfazed expression, “All I had today was coffee and stress.” 

Jungkook gives you the bitchiest eyeroll and brushes off the sarcasm – he probably has grown jaded to it by now. 

“I bought take-out for us but it’s cold now, so…”

You suppress the smile that threatens to play on your lips and nod. He doesn’t even need to say it explicitly – you know exactly what he’s inferring. 

“We definitely need to stop eating take-out and microwavable food. That shit be nasty.” 

You two walk down the corridor to the kitchen in comfortable silence, arms brushing against one another. He turns to look at you quietly and gets so distracted by how otherworldly you look that it takes him a moment to hand you the food in his hand. 

Nobody is hogging the living room – Sooyeon and Jimin are on a date and Namjoon is probably asleep like a log. The windows in the living room are left open and the chilly air is welcoming, embracing you two in a comfortable silence; in your private alone-time. 

After heating up the food while Jungkook sets the table (which just includes getting banana milk for both of you – he doesn’t mind sharing them with you now), you settle down on the seat opposite him and soon become fall into a comfortable conversation. Of course, it includes your usual bantering.  

“So… when did you start, you know, having a phobia of microwaves?” 

He raises an eyebrow before letting out a slight chuckle, “When I was 6… I put an egg in the microwave.”

“You did what?”

“Yeah, I stupidly did that. The egg exploded and it was loud and so scary and I got scarred after that incident… So yeah, I haven’t touched a microwave ever since.”

“But you live off microwavable food, what the heck? Then what about heating up food at convenience stores?” 

“I’ll ask the staff or an innocent nice-looking customer to help me?” 

“Then how are you going to survive in college? You live in a dorm, microwavable food is basically your life,” you chastise. 

“Well…” 

“Well?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” 

His voice is infused with honey and velvet. Something about his tone sets a pit of warmth in your stomach. 

You look back at Jungkook and find him already staring back at you. There’s something in his gaze that makes your limbs heavy. It makes you feel trapped and lost in the depths of his eyes, warm and inviting. 

“W-What?”

You notice Jungkook’s rapidly drumming his fingers against the table, while chewing on his lower lip. 

He’s nervous. 

“Um I-I mean, you’re always here for me to annoy! And the guys are here to help me too, so I think I’d survive.”

“Geez, I swear you’re only nice to me because I’m here to save your ass. If the microwave ever explodes while I’m heating up your food, you’re going to pay by taking care of me till I grow old,” you tease as he laughs, giving your arm a little nudge. 

You observe how his whole face lights up, how his eyes crinkle in the corners and his smile is so large that his nose scrunches up adorable. The laughter reverberates through the kitchen, bouncing off the walls like bells. 

You just don’t know how and when you’ve become so comfortable with his presence, but sarcasm has always been your go-to with him, especially since it helps to cover up how your voice is two tones higher whenever he’s around as of lately. Also, because saying “I hate you” is easier than saying “I actually like talking to you and when you’re not bothering me, it feels weird like there’s something missing in my life” and “your laugh is actually really nice, can you laugh more often”.

Jungkook’s feet are still beating rhythms into the leg of the dining table, his hand mindlessly stirring his long-cold noodles. He feels a little ridiculous to be happy about eating with you, especially now that the conversation has dialled down to nothing more than chewing and sipping. Every so often, he will glance up at you as he brings his chopsticks to his lips. 

"So… How come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?"

"Huh?"

"You’re just nicer than usual…?” He trails off, “It’s kind of weird."

"Well, I can kick your shin right now if you want?" You bite with every inch of sarcasm you can muster, but anyone could tell that your tone is fond. 

He laughs again, a low, velvety rumble from deep inside his chest and your lips curl up as well. The smile that you give Jungkook over the rim of your bowl is so unexpectedly bright that it makes something bubbly and yellow swell inside of Jungkook and he reflexively smiles in return, bright and honey-sweet. 

You can feel Jungkook staring at you, only inches away – staring at you like that, like you’re the light of the moon, like you hold the stars in the night sky with your very palm. So you pretend to be occupied with slurping your leftover broth, desperately trying to prevent your cheeks from igniting under the warm gaze that deftly lights upon you. Maybe that’s why you end up spilling your food, but you spill it half the time on your own anyway. 

You jump slightly when the liquid dribbles down your chin and onto your shirt. 

“Ah, shit,” you say, quickly wiping away the mess off your chin. 

You’re about to ask for a napkin when you feel fingers cupping your face. With the pad of his thumb, Jungkook brushes the underside of your chin. It’s a playful gesture, but also so affectionate that it’s very unlike of Jungkook and you freeze up as if paralysed. 

Leaning in, he’s so close that you can feel the flutter of Jungkook’s breath on your face, how it hitches and quickens. You stop fidgeting, eyes focused on Jungkook who quietly wipes away the liquid on your face with his thumb. He’s still staring straight at you without a word, and you see that same soft sparkle in his eyes that does nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of your chest. 

Looking into his eyes is like sitting close to a fire that suddenly blazes up. Slowly, you feel a smile growing steady across your face, and even though your heart has been racing this entire time with Jungkook by your side, it manages to beat a little faster.

Jungkook, for the life of him, suddenly realises that he has a huge, embarrassing and debilitating crush on you one fine day and he doesn’t know what to do with that information. It’s opposite of the saying – surprised, but not disappointed. 

If someone were to ask him exactly why he has fallen for you, in which nobody would since he is insanely good at hiding it and he has never told a soul, the answer would be simple. Underneath your tough exterior and sky-high walls, you’re so full of love and your heart is more delicate and softer than anyone else’s.

After a full semester living together, you two have grown more comfortable with one another and your interactions go beyond just bantering with each other and eating microwavable food together. On Fridays where everyone else would be out, sometimes you two would watch a movie together and that has become a routine that you guys follow religiously.

Today isn’t an exception. You two are huddled on the couch, sharing a blanket and relishing in the warmth and comfort of each other’s body heat. 

Upon coming to a realisation of his feelings, the flutter in Jungkook’s chest has become more obvious and more out of control – his heartbeats are a perpetual merciless staccato rhythm whenever you’re around. 

The Avengers is playing on the screen – it’s your turn to pick this week and while he loves Marvel, he pays no attention to the movie because you’re comfortably curled up beside him. 

Delirious with exhaustion, you roll over to face him, your body already sinking into the softness of the sofa. You snuggle up closer to him, pressing your chest against his arm and you wonder when he started to feel like safe harbour. 

Instinctively, his fingers reach out for yours and he starts to play with them, rubbing circles onto your palm with his thumb. He strokes up your wrist, before bringing your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your hand. You tilt your heads towards his and you can see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, so warm and soft.

He looks like a dream, tan skin and dark hair, lit golden in the light from the TV screen. 

You heart ricochets in your chest, skipping a beat and you feel the need to hold onto something, so you grab onto his sleeve. Eyes tracking over his face, mapping over every curve of his facial features, you feel a smile slowly growing across your face at this intimacy. 

Silence hangs between the two of you and you can almost feel Jungkook’s eyes tracing the line of your collarbone where it disappears inside your sweater, his thick and dark eyelashes fluttering just a fraction with each breath.  

A cherry blossom blush blooms over his face, crossing the bridge of his nose and spreading over his cheekbones. Jungkook reaches up and brushes the underside of your chin with the pad of his calloused thumb. This gesture, so affectionate and ginger, prompts another smile to creep on your lips. 

He lets out a soft chuckle, locking eyes with you as if spellbound by the sparkly glint in your eyes. 

“Are you okay with this?” He asks in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning into your space. His voice, deep in timbre and infused with honey and velvet, washes every last rational thought of yours and you feel a flutter in your chest, running through your veins like blossoms of gold.

And you nod without thinking. 

In the briefest of moments, Jungkook leans in, palms cradling your blushing visage, and brushes his lips over your grin, so lightly that it feels like you’re swimming in a field of fully-blossomed roses. At the softness of his lips against yours, your stomach coils. 

When you feel the supple skin of his lips meld against your teeth, you push back fervently. It's an amalgamation of teeth, mumbled names and unspoken feelings that are coming to a head and finally bursting – absolutely everything you have imagined and more. 

Hooking your fingers in the collar of Jungkook’s shirt, you inch closer and you can hear his heartbeats, which almost sound akin to the rush of the ocean in a seashell.

It’s a little less gentle now. He nips harder at your bottom lip, rolling the flesh in between his teeth gently before trailing his lips down your jaw and to your neck. You sigh loudly in bliss when he sucks faint lilac bruises into your skin, as if determined to ensure that they’ll be clearly visible tomorrow and that you’ll curse at him for marking you with spots that even your best makeup couldn’t cover up. 

His fingers start to skirt beneath your blouse, tracing circles on your waist and slowly snaking their way up. Even when your tongues are entangled in a hot battle, it is sensual and romantic. It doesn’t help that Jungkook keeps making such sweet, lulling noises, like someone is plucking at his heartstrings, creating a melody just for you. All because of you. 

The very thought of that makes your body tingle with warmth from the tip of your fingers to the hollow space of your heart. 

Hands wandering south, you can’t help but slide your fingers under his shirt and drag them over the planes of his abs. His body is warm and it’s making your head spin, tugging furiously at your heartstrings too. You want to get his shirt off and see all of Jungkook. Your heart feels like summer rain, warm, light and pattering. You want to melt into him. 

Parting from you moments later with swollen lips, he doesn’t break eye contact from you and you see stars in his eyes that shine nothing but ardent adoration and fondness for you. 

There is a sharp tug of fear and discord in your chest and you feel your heart drop. 

Then everything clicks. 

This is wrong. So wrong. 

“Jungkook,” you whimper, his name leaving your parted lips in a dulcet whisper. Your heart spikes in your chest and your stomach unravels and knots again. When you let go of his shirt, you feel like you’ve let go of a piece of your heart. You feel like puking. 

“Y-You’re someone special to me, Jungkook.”

He feels his soul pitfall into the depths of his stomach, knowing very well that there’s a ‘but’ coming next. 

“That’s, um, nice,” he says, feeling his face and throat flush. “You’re special to me too.”

Looking deep into his orbs, you realise this: he has heart eyes for you, like you hold his entire world with your mere breath. 

And to be very honest, you’re terrified.  

“But I-I can’t, Jungkook.”

There’s a long pause and the silence presses against you, weighing so heavy that you feel like you’re being suffocated. The voice that crawls out of your lungs barely feels like your own and you’re not sure if you mean what you say. The words sting like nettle leaves on the tip of your tongue. 

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

A wave of panic cuts through the pins and needles pricking down your spine as he remains quiet. You half-expected him to make a sarcastic comment or smirk at you for punking you with the kiss. Instead, he’s just staring at you blankly and his vacant expression is an abyss – it’s unnerving. 

Jungkook maintains his silence like the moon and the silence in between you continues for moments and moments, as if the world has come to a halt. It’s so quiet that you could hear the erratic thumping of your hearts. 

Then he opens his mouth. “Oh, okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats succinctly, sounding more helpless by each second, “If that’s what you want.”

The raw helplessness in his voice fights against the walls in your heart. It’s tearing down the walls, clawing aggressively at them, hopelessly yearning that they’ll crumble down for him. 

“I’ll just… give you some space,” he starts to stand up, shoulders drooped low, unable to meet your worried eyes. 

When he spins on his heels towards the door, instead of going after him, all you do is gape at his departing silhouette for the longest time and then at the shut door, your heart painfully swelling up to the size of the sun. 

You feel your entire world dissolve in slow motion.

Deep down, tucked within a crevice of your heart, you know you want to be as close to him as possible. You want him all to yourself. But you’re unsure. 

You’re not sure how to express the depth of what you feel for him or how you’ve grown to love the little things about him. Like how he makes a big pot of coffee and comes into your room to hand you a warm cup every morning, how he sings softly to himself in his room when he thinks nobody is listening, or how he’s always teasing you and making you laugh. How he always looks for you whenever he needs to heat up his food, even when the others are at home. How he brings you peace when there’s a perpetual whirlpool in your mind. When you’re with him, you realise that the weight of the multiverse on you doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

You don’t know how to tell him all these in words and actions and you’re a writer for fuck’s sake. But what you do know is that you never want to see that sad expression on his face ever again. 

If there’s one you are especially – and notoriously – horrible at, it would be dealing with your feelings, namely feelings for Jeon Jungkook. Truth is, you hate yourself and you’ve been a complete wreck ever since that day. 

“Jungkook.” 

Ears perking up at the name, you snap out of your trance and tilt your head upwards. “Wha—where?” 

The sound of his name is like blunt nails being hammered into your heart, until the organ is left nothing but a bloody, useless pulp. 

“He’s not here, dumb ass. I just thought that saying his name would be more effective than calling your own name,” Namjoon says, giving your forehead a little flick, “I’ve been calling you for the past minute.”

“Oh sorry—”

“You’re whipped.”

“What?” 

“You like Jungkook,” Namjoon says matter-of-factly. 

You tense up instantly and a deafening silence descends. 

Eyes soft and unassuming, he flashes you a soft smile and his face is doing that thing where he gazes at you like you’re made of glass and he can see through your heart and soul. Namjoon, out of all people, knows that a soft and feeble heart is hidden behind that attitude and sharp tongue of yours. 

An involuntary sigh escapes your lips and you bury your face into your palms as your suspire lowers into an interminable groan. The uncomfortable, electrifying sensation that you associate only with one name crawls up your spine, like a colony of ants marching on your skin. 

Namjoon’s right. 

Jungkook has exploded into your life like a firework: bright, loud, and so dearly ethereal. It’s his bright doe eyes and boyish bunny smile that caught you off-guard during your first encounter with him. And somehow or another, he has waltzed his way into your life ever since, seamlessly, like the last piece to your puzzle.

You do notice how your heart becomes all erratic and out of control when he's around. Throbbing, threatening to demolish your steel, collected demeanour into bits. He makes you feel like the female character of a trashy teenage romance novel and as much as you hate the idea of feeling like a 12-year-old, if it’s with Jungkook, it’s fine. 

It’s as if you two are meant to gravitate towards each other, fill up the void in each other’s lives and soak in each other’s comforting presence. Ignore your initial hatred for him – you’ve actually grown to enjoy the sweet calm of Jungkook’s presence and company, and even that itself is an understatement. He has planted himself into your life so well that it’ll be freaking strange if you decide to push him out of your life. You don’t think you can’t function properly. 

No bathroom singing, no messy sofa, no seat stealer, no microwave adventures. No intimate touches. No bunny smiles or boyish chuckles. No one to make you smile and laugh as though life isn’t tearing you down every second. 

You love hearing Jungkook laugh. His laughter is a metaphor that you’ve been trying to pen down for years. And his smile? It’s a radiance of ardent adoration. Utterly beautiful. 

And then there’s the other thing – something embarrassing that took forever for you to realise and even longer for you to admit it to yourself. 

But you know now and your heart is screaming.  

“Yeah, I do,” you whisper back, feeling like the bits and pieces of your brain are coming together. 

“You want to date him,” Namjoon raises his brows at your confession. 

“I think so?” 

“Hold his hand and cuddle together?”

“Yes.”

“Suck his dick?”

“Ye—God, Namjoon! What’s up with your filthy mouth?”

“Dude, don’t act all demure with me.”

“I’m still not talking to you about wanting to fuck Jungkook.” 

He rolls his eyes, but the grin on his lips says otherwise. 

“But that’s great, Y/N. Took you years to acknowledge your feelings. But just to let you know, the kid has been waiting for you to come back home every night. You should go talk to him.”

No matter what you tell yourself or whatever insecurities you have, there is truth that you’ve always had a place reserved for Jungkook in your heart, nestled between fragile hopes and waning kindness.

The boy makes your heart sing. He’s got a soft, sweet heart, a ripe mango of a heart, yellow and full. In between the bantering sessions and microwave misadventures, you have accidentally and unquestionably very much fallen in love with Jungkook.  

But you don’t know what to do. 

What you know is that you need to talk to him. 

The stillness of the hour makes the walls lurch even more seismic when you open the front door, expecting the apartment to be pitch dark. You assume that nobody would be in the living room at this timing and Jungkook would be holed up in his room watching anime or perhaps at a party, chugging down shots as an attempt to forget you and move on with his life because you’re a heartless bitch and he deserves so much better. 

However, the little lamp at the corner is lit up and when you walk towards the couch, you see Jungkook curled up on it, drowning in his big hoodie and looking softer than ever. His left cheek is squished from where he is lying down on the pillow. 

You heart gnaws at the sight of him and it hurts even more when you realise that he is waiting for you to return. 

He stirs in his sleep upon hearing footsteps and fully jerks awake when he hears your voice. 

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, reaching out to caress his face, fingers brushing against the scar of his cheekbone. He slurs in response, turning his face into the curve of your palm and brings his hand to caress the back of your hand, causing your heart to snap. 

“You’re back,” he announces breathlessly, like he couldn’t believe it. He stares at you with forlorn eyes and you only spare him a half-second glance before turning away, seemingly disgruntled.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly says.  

“What? Why are you—”

“Sorry for making you uncomfortable,” he mutters with a softness that invaded his velvety voice.

“Don’t say sorry,” you reach out to grasp his hand, rubbing your thumb onto his palm, “I should be the one apologising.”

“No—”

“Jungkook – listen,” you settle yourself on the couch beside him, “I don’t know what I want. That’s part of the problem.”

You sigh, “I want something from you, but I don’t know what. I don’t know how to name it or quantify it. I don’t like not knowing what to do.”

Jungkook peers up at you through his bangs, deep in thought and even in his sleepy state, he knows exactly that he never wants to let you go. He doesn’t want to lose you. He wants this.  

“It’s okay, Y/N—”

“I’m too cynical, always too sceptical. Too mean for anyone. I’m also a fucking dumb hopeless romantic. I want a lot of things, Jungkook. I want to love… but I don’t know if I know how to? I’m not sure if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” he whispers, “I really do. I’m scared too, like really fucking scared. What if I hurt you? What if I don’t love you right? What if one day we might not be the same anymore?” 

You lower your head in fear, feeling a ripple of anxiety pass across your chest at the thought of the future and Jungkook swears he can hear the gears in your brain turning frantically. 

“But we never know until we try, right? And I… want to try with you. Because it’s with you.”

You curl closer to him, taking in the pleasantly warm and comforting scent of him and he brings you to a warm embrace, pressing little kisses to your forehead. 

Silence weaves itself into the spaces of everything around the two of you. It’s comfortable – you feel like you’re finally at home. 

It could be due to the fatigue or the way he’s looking at you, so intently, but you find yourself blurting out without a thought.  

“Your heart,” you mumble, pressing your hand over his chest and taking in the ghost of Jungkook’s warm breath on your face, “is beating so fast.”

You gaze closely at his visage and drink in the view – his messy bed hair, slightly flushed cheeks, soft pouty lips – and right at this very moment, you can confirm that you’re really stupidly besotted with him. You swear Jungkook has never looked more beautiful than in that moment of him softly gazing at you with a devotion that you can never find in anybody else. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out with a soft smile, “It’s always like this when you’re around.”

“D-Did you just flirt with me?” 

There’s a tickle that dances across his lips, a sparkle of mirth glimmering in his eyes. “Have been for the past few months, but thanks for noticing.”

A blush paints your cheeks fervently, while your heart is doing a fucking waltz even though it knows shit about dancing, the rest of you nothing but moonlight and air. 

“Do you think… you’ll give us a chance?” He whispers earnestly, a tone three notches deeper and your heart gnaws at how gentle and careful he is with you. 

Us. 

“Jungkook, you have all my heart,” you whisper softly, “You always did.”

The most adorable of smiles slowly forms on his face and it feels like everything stands still around you. You feel the warmth of Jungkook’s palms cradling your blushing features, while he strokes your cheeks lightly with his thumb. A grin moulds on your face that resembles his own.

In that split second where you’re relishing in the ghost of his breath against his face, he leans forward and brushes his lips over yours so gingerly that it’s akin to the caress of a feather. The euphoric feeling of Jungkook’s soft lips on yours directly connects to the bones in your legs and turns them to jelly. 

For moments and moments, you swear you could see fireworks and the galaxies splayed out above you.  

He feels you softening like clay and relenting to the otherworldly sensation as he traces the tender flesh of your lower lip, the shape of his mouth quieting the chaos in your head. He can taste your heartbeat at the tip of your tongue.

Jungkook slackens his jaw, deepening the kiss. His tongue grazes along your lower lip before instantly meeting yours, tangling for dominance. He can’t resist himself any longer. He wants more of you, needs a taste of what he’s been yearning for so long. He nips lightly at your lower lip and smirks when an unexpected gasp falls from your mouth. 

He alternates between licking into your mouth hungrily and sucking on your lower lip and tongue. He kisses you slow and deep, all seeking tongue and teeth, making you into him desperately, all passion and open mouths.

Trailing south, his lips plant a tentative kiss on your jawline and then on your neck. He takes his time, hard muscle of his tongue lapping at your sweet skin, lips sucking until a blossoming bruise begins to form. Your breath catches in your throat, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. He feels you lean against him, craning your neck to give him better access to dust lovebites all over your supple skin. 

“Jungkook,” you gasp, relishing in the warmth from his chest. 

He hums in response, a low rumbling sound that vibrates against your chest and it seems to ignite something in both of you. 

You run your hands over Jungkook’s stomach, down his narrow waist and the bottom of his ribcage, your fingers softly brushing against his happy trail. He tenses up immediately and you stifle a giggle, fascinated by the flutter of his muscles as he breathes when you touch a new spot of his body or graze your teeth over his tongue. 

You don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times you thought about running your tongue along the tautness of his stomach, or how his jaw might clench when you wrap your lips around his dick. 

You want him.

And he wants you too. You can feel it in the way he kisses. How eager he’d be to fuck you dry even if that meant getting caught red-handed by your roommates with his pants around his knees, balls deep in your guts in the fucking kitchen. 

“You make me so hard all the time it’s not even fucking funny,” he laughs dryly, looking at you in endearment. 

“You know… I saw you masturbating the other night.”

“W-What? When?” 

You bite your lower lip at the lewd mental image. “A few weeks ago, you were…”

“What was I doing?” The smallest of smirks starts to tug at his lips. He’s challenging you. 

“You were… stroking yourself…”

“And?”

“… Humping your pillow and calling out for me.”

“Fuck Y/N,” he groans, nuzzling his face into your neck, “You’ve got such a dirty mouth.”

“You asked me where you were doing!”

“Did you like what you saw though?”

“I—”

Leaning towards your ears, he lowers his tone and whispers, “You always make me fucking hard, I think I need to punish you for that. Bet you’ll like that, won’t you?”

“Jungkook, what—” 

“You got to make it up to me, Miss Grumps. Have a taste of your own medicine.”

“You calling me Miss Grumps totally ruined the mood.”

“Sorry… babe?” He chuckles for a lack of a better response. 

You smile again, feeling a ripple of molten and saccharine sweet longing ease its way up your belly at the endearment. 

Your eyes track over his visage, his dark eyes glassy with unadulterated adoration and love as he attacks you with kisses all over your face. You can’t hold back the little whimpers that escape your throat and Jungkook ardently swallows every single one, grateful for every single noise you make. 

His breath is coming out in warm swathes of air against your collarbones and you glance down to see his eyes, the slow blinks of his heavy lids, each breath laboured and potent with lust.

Pressing his lips all over your throat, wet and messy and wonderful, you whimper when he sucks hardly just beneath your jaw that has got you quivering and that only prompts him to suck on it harder. 

You don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times you’ve thought of this – him planting hickeys all over your neck, or you running your tongue along the tautness of his stomach, or how his jaw might clench when you took him into your mouth.

“Jungkook,” you break out of your trance and whisper, “I want to suck you off.”

Desire ricochets through his abdomen at your dirty words. He can’t believe his ears. 

“Where?” 

“K-Kitchen.”

He shoots you a look at your response, but doesn’t probe further when he sees a sly smile on your face, eyes clouded with a salacious lust. 

He’s even more turned on by this, smashing his lips on yours again, kissing you so fiercely and passionately. Carrying you over to the kitchen with your legs tightened around his waist, he delights in the friction and warmth of your body against his as your lips are still busily entangled in a hot battle. 

You push him atop the counter while your hands worm their way to the waistband of his sweat, tugging it down his sinewy thighs and you try not to drool at his rippling thigh muscles. 

“You’re so fucking dirty,” he quirks up an eyebrow, his voice noticeably deeper and gruffer, “The guys are going to be so pissed.” 

With a sharp intake of air, he tips his head back with his eyes shut. When he reopens them, he sees you kneeled before him on the kitchen floor, eyes dilated with a virtuous gaiety. You palm his length over his underwear without warning, causing him to groan out loud, bucking forward when you inch closer to give his clothed budge a few kitten licks. 

The desperation of his situation only seems to increase in severity when you tug down the elastic band of his boxers and slide them off his legs, finally freeing his erection which springs out from its confines, slapping hard against his abdomen. 

Jungkook’s much bigger than you expected, his tip angry and red, leaking with pearly beads that dribble down his length and the bulging veins that line it. He is also hard. Very painfully hard and throbbing red, because you are so angelic and sinful all at the same time, and it’s making him really fucking desperate. 

“Fucking hell. B-Babe, don’t tease, please,” his entire body shivers when your hot breath passes through to the sensitive skin of his cock. He’s fucking aching with need. 

Jungkook’s jaw drops, continuing his string of curses, but the words are instantly replaced with a breathy moan as you press his tongue to his navel, licking down his happy trail teasingly. Locking eyes with him, your fingers gingerly trace the soft lines of his abdomen, lingering over the sensitive flesh above his member and nipping at it, teasing him in ways you could have only imagined before. 

Leaning in, you take his dick in your hands – it’s thick, hot and throbbing with need. Eyes still locked with his, you plant a soft kiss at the head in an almost kitten-like fashion and your tongue tingles at the taste of his pre-cum that already accumulated smelting on the saturated expanse. 

You’ve wanted to do this for the longest time. You don’t know how many times you’ve thought of running your tongue along the underside his length from the base to head, taking each ridge and curve into account, your head bopping up and down, pleasuring him to no end and revelling his deep, sinful moans. 

You look up through your eyelashes, vision hazy with lust. Jungkook has his head tipped back again in pleasure, his irises are gone, eyeballs rolled back in his head as he clenches down at his teeth to hold back his moan. 

The very sight sends an electrifying heat down to your arousal. You want to suck him off so badly and make him feel like the man on the moon. So you start peppering light kisses onto the head, before capturing his length into the warm moistness of your mouth, prompting a raspy fuck from him, and hollow your cheeks enough to press against the sides.

Parting away from his tip, your tongue licks the underside of his cock before finding its way to his balls, sucking hard on them and rolling them around in your mouth one by one. Jungkook bucks his lips forward at this as dirty curses erupt from his throat. 

“Fuck babe, that feels fucking good,” he runs his fingers through your dishevelled locks, trying his best to stifle his moans. 

Upon his reaction, you smile to yourself, continuing to alternate your tongue between his balls and his hard shaft. When you take his cock into your mouth again, you thrum blithely at the fullness of him, opening your mouth wider to take him deeper until you bottom out, nose brushing against the tussock of cleanly trimmed pubic hair at his navel. 

“Fuck, you’re so good. I’m so fucking lucky,” he says, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

Saliva pools in your mouth as you start swirling your tongue around the head instead, humming in response at how he tastes and feels on your tongue. The vibrations make him shiver, one hand at the back of your head and the other on the kitchen counter. You pop off audibly after a while, hand still working at the base of Jungkook’s cock, fondling his balls.

“Want to fuck your mouth so bad,” he growls and your entire body quivers. 

Grabbing his cock, Jungkook repeatedly taps his meat against your cheek, waiting for your permission before he steers it into your mouth again. With a low, guttural groan, he wraps your hair tight in his fist and starts thrusting his dick into your mouth harder than ever, filling you to the brim. 

Your jaw slackens while taking in all of him, the tip of his cock hitting the deep back of your throat. You take in as much of him as you can, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he continues to hit the back of your throat. It’s uncomfortable, but the weight of him on your tongue makes your bundle of nerves burn, your underwear wetter than ever. 

“Jesus, you’re fucking good at sucking me off.”

It’s when you hum in pleasure with Jungkook’s cock still halfway down your throat that he lets out something of a wail. His mind is in turmoil and he can’t think straight for the better of him. He can only think about how fucking hot you look on your knees, in between his thighs, giving him the best blow of his life. Eyes hazy and obsidian, he believes that this is the most erotic sight he has ever seen and he’s fucking turned on. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. I’m going to come soon, but I’m not coming unless it’s in your tight sweet pussy.”

“Shit,” you mutter at his filthy talk, pulling back up from his cock to pant for air, but the strings of dibble trailing from his cock to your swollen lips arouse you even more. 

“Come on, let’s go to my room before anyone wakes up and gets the shock of their lives.”

He pulls you to your feet, palms smoothing your ass cheeks and smacking each side hard, before he leans in to smash his lips on yours. Fuck, he can taste himself on your lips and in your mouth and this only increases his desire to fuck you senseless. Impatiently, he sweeps you off your feet effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to his room. You try not to stifle at how frantic he is, his red aching cock still hanging out, while his sweats are still pooled around his ankles.  

Kicking his bedroom door open, he lies you gingerly on the bed before walking over to lock his door. When he returns with a hazy smile, he lowers his body on top of yours and your hands naturally clutch around his neck. Your heart thumps when you can feel the frenzy of his pulse underneath your fingers. 

His fingers secure around your chin, tilting your face up to meet his lips in a kiss, filling you with liquid heat. This one is slow but heated and still leaves you completely breathless. Before you can lick his mouth, Jungkook pulls away from your mouth to slide your shirt up.

You find his fingers carding through your hair as if to soothe your nerves, before they trail down to your neck and over the dark red bruises on your neck from earlier on to rest on your shirt, tapping a rhythm against your chest. You give him a nod and his fingers begin unbuttoning your shirt, delicately ghosting his touch over your breasts and chest so painfully slow that you cry for him to hurry the fuck up. 

A satisfied smirk tugs at his lips at each sound of your unadulterated desire and when your shirt is fully unbuttoned, he pulls you up in one smooth movement, tugging it off and tossing it onto the floor. 

Sliding a thigh between your legs, Jungkook allows you to rut against him while his hands begin their ministrations, wandering all over your body, inspecting every inch of it, grabbing and squeezing every curve of yours. He bends forward to trail open-mouthed kisses over your bare torso and the knot of lust tightens within your abdomen. 

His breath is coming out in warm swathes of air against your skin and you glance down to see his eyes, the slow blinks of his heavy lids that are eyeing your entire body, each breath laboured and concentrated with lust. 

His hands rest on your hips as they squeeze and caress your skin each time you whimper his name like a mantra, while he leans forward to your neck again, the ghost of his breath leaving a trail of fire down your throat until they reach your tits. 

Tugging your bra down to expose the swell of your breasts, he leans back to watch your face as his thumb darts right over your hard nipple, working a slow, lithe circle around your sensitive nipple before he tweaks the bud in between the pads of his fingers. You feel him lick at your nipple tentatively before he engulfs it in his mouth, sucking it hard while his other hand fondles with your other mound. 

It’s a tidal wave, causing wetness to pool between your thighs and you press them together, trying to create some friction or subside the uncomfortable stickiness invading your underwear. 

Lowering himself down between your thighs, you wait with bated breath before he starts licking and bestowing kisses on your navel and then down to your inner thighs, leaving you gasping at the sensation of his hot breath dancing across your sensitive skin.  

You emit a soft whimper which then melts into a desperate moan when he buries his nose against the cotton of your panties, his mouth teasing your bud through the soaked fabric. Very timidly, you raise your hips, seeking friction, and Jungkook receives you with the same hunger. 

“Going to eat you out so well you’re going to forget your fucking name and only remember mine.” 

His eyes, hazy with lust, lock with yours and he smirks viciously. The concupiscent blackness you found within them swallows you whole.

Your nerves jitter anxiously, raising tiny bumps of excitement across your skin as his fingers graze over your clit generously. Your body arches involuntarily when he licks a brazen stripe up your folds with his flattened tongue, taking in all of your juices. The sudden invasion of his tongue has you purring in delight. 

He edges your clit eagerly, flicking it with his tongue, teasing in circles before he sucks on it roughly and then lapping at it hungrily like a starved man. Gasping loudly, you bring one hand to cover your mouth, your breath stuttering as your other hand goes down to tug hard at his raven locks, your hips bucking forward and into his mouth. 

You mewl out loud when he slips his tongue inside your tight walls, fucking you with the flat of his tongue. Just when you think it couldn’t feel any better, he eases one finger into you slowly, smoothly sliding over your soaking wet folds until it’s knuckle-deep inside you. When you throw your head back in pleasure, he adds another finger, pulling his mouth away to focus on scissoring you and hitting all the right spots. 

“You like teasing me, don’t you? How about now?”

Without warning, Jungkook begins curling his fingers inside you, spreading your lower lips wide to allow your juices to flow past his knuckles and drip onto his bedsheets. His fingers continue his assault on your pussy for moments and moments, pounding mercilessly into you, the heel of his palm taking its place on your clit. 

The squelching sounds of his finger delving in and out of you are melodic to his ears, reverberating through the room. He then brings his lips back onto your clit and the cadence of his tongue on your clit is tantalising, tongue either lapping lazily at your clit or sucking on it ardently. 

Adrenaline runs through his entire body, lighting up his nerves like firecrackers. He can’t believe this is happening. “I could eat you all fucking day. You’re so hot, Y/N.”

With the combination of his tongue and fingers furiously fostering your orgasm, you know you’re not going to last for very long. 

“Jungkook, please. I’m going to cum soon. Please, please,” you whimper helplessly on his sheets. 

Upon seeing your rolled up eyes, parted mouth and arched back, accompanied by the loud moans and cries leaving your mouth, the music of your voice pleading for him, he pulls away from your clit, smiling proudly to himself. 

“You’re not coming now. You can only come on my dick.”

You moan disgruntledly at the loss of his fingers and tongue, feeling empty all of a sudden. Shooting him a glare of betrayal, you’re about to scream at him for being a tease, but your eyes widen when you see his flushed skin, plump lips, shiny forehead, your own glistening nectar leaking from his lips and dribbling down to his chin and neck. 

And suddenly, you’re tongue-tied, squirming again. The throb in your core is torturous, your entire body is caught in a crossfire as you lie pliantly under Jungkook as his arms cage around you, helplessly soaking his bedsheets. 

You want him to wreck you. 

He pushes your trembling thighs apart as he settles between them. You whimper when you finally feel the head of his cock prodding at your soaked lips. But he doesn’t enter immediately. Instead, he slaps his cock against your pussy, and the filthy action only turns you on even more, driving your nerves into a frenzy. 

It seems like eons when he finally sheathes himself inch by inch inside you, till his cock is up to the hilt, and god, it feels so fucking incredible. The electricity that shoots through your blood is like a drug. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you hiss, threading your fingers into his hair as he groans at the feeling of you surrounding him. He waits for your entire body melts into him before moving. You can only keen at the surge of fullness, clenching around his thick length. Biting your lip to keep yourself from waking up your housemates, you reach up for Jungkook to pull him into another kiss. 

With his lips still locked with yours, he fucks you so thoroughly, the agonising roll of his hips hits that sweet spot with deadly accuracy, your body writhing in pleasure.

The warmth of your pussy makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, especially when your walls mould around every ridge and vein of his cock. He loves watching how his cock disappears into you, your tight pussy swallowing it up to the hilt with no difficulty, taking him so fucking well. So he draws his hips back, and you can feel every inch of his heat going with the motion before he swiftly plunges his cock back into you. Unrelentingly hard. Over and over again. 

Your back arches at the sensation and wanton desire for more, moaning his name out loud like that’s the only thing you know. 

You can feel the need and lust in his thrusts, from the way his fingers dig into your hips and hold you in place, leaving bruises on your skin as he rams himself into you, without even bothering to muffle the sound of his toned thighs hitting the back of yours every time your hips meet. You fucking love this, fucking love how strong his thighs are, how full his cock is making you feel. 

Each dirty, fast slap of skin and the momentum of his cock buried deep inside of you only makes the two of you needier. Jungkook doesn’t tease this time, probably not able to hold back anymore, and the bucking of his hips builds up to a fast, animalistic frenzy, plunging his cock into your body. He hammers roughly against your g-spot enough to rock your body forward and back with every thrust, warming your body like sunlight.

He reaches to fondle with your breasts, tugging potently at your nipple before sucking hard on it. Looking up, you see him smiling brightly, flashing his bunny smile and it drives you insane how he can fucking you so good, but still look so innocent at the same time. 

“Love you so fucking much,” an enticing lilt caresses the edges of his already hoarse voice, the smile on his lips growing wider. It’s the same fond grin he gives you when he sees you in the kitchen, in the hallways in school and when you’re back home after a long day at school and goes straight to join him at the couch after you two were past the I-hate-you-fuck-off stage. 

“Love you, love you, fucking love you.” 

A saccharine smile dances in the corners of his lips as he kisses you roughly, the shaken quavers of your moans thaw in the heat of his kisses, as his hands grope your ass tightly, still fucking you so well. 

Each slickened thrust is accompanied with a deep roll of his hips so that he is right there inside of you, causing you to feel choked at how close you are. Hazy with ecstasy, you roll your head against the pillow, nails digging deeper onto his back. 

With eyes rolled back, your entire body trembles with pleasure as your cunt suctions around his cock, alongside the burning feeling of fire pooling low on your abdomen. You’re clamping down on him hard enough that he’s delirious, his steady pace becoming more frenzied. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Jungkook. I’m coming!” 

He leans forward to press a kiss on your eyelids, whispering sweet praises into your ear as he brings one hand to rub the small hard bub unrelentingly to relieve your tense bundle of nerves.

Determined for you to reach your high, Jungkook grabs at your knees, hiking your leg over his shoulder and you let out a cry at the new position. 

“You love this? You love it when I fuck you harder?”

You scream out a yes when he taunts you even more, feeling every single ridge of his dick against your walls as he fucks you at a better angle of access. It feels so, so fucking good. 

He speeds his hips up so much so that the sound of skin slapping fills the room, almost overpowering your moans. Almost. You don’t even fucking care if your housemates can hear your filthy moans. 

“Fuck,” you groan shamelessly when the coil inside you grows tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter. “J-Jungkook, I’m fucking cl-close. Please, please!”

“That’s right,” the smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth upon hearing you beg and he continues to fuck you harder than before. Fucking you into oblivion. “Come for me, love.”

Beneath his touch, you feel light and heavy all at once, while a white heat pools in your belly. Your body locks up entirely and then dissolves into an erratic series of spasms. Your legs writhe uncontrollably alongside a torrent of ecstasy that splurges from your center, head spinning to static noises and hot moans as Jungkook holds onto your body firmly to help you through your climax. 

After your high, Jungkook resumes to move in and out you, while a combination of a hoarse moan and your name is strangled out of his throat from the depths of his lungs. 

“Shit, fuck, I’m coming,” his voice trail off and his thighs tense as he slams into you, holding your hips firmly in place. Your small fingers thread through Jungkook’s hair, holding him close and urging him on.

“Come inside me, please. I want you. I want your hot cum.”

He lets out a deep moan, his face burying into the crook of your neck and shoulder as he rides out his orgasm, moaning and whimpering into your ear as he releases deep into you, spurts of warm cum filling you so full and spritzing your walls white. He ruts into you until your pussy milks him for all he’s worth. 

He can feel his pearly cum oozing out of your clenching entrance, slipping down your trembling thighs. He doesn’t pull out just yet, dick still nestled inside of your tight walls, wanting you to feel full with his cum. When he finally pulls out, he collapses on top of you, planting kisses all over your face before nuzzling into the warmth of your neck. 

Still trembling with the power of your orgasms, the both of you stay like that for a few minutes, just catching your breaths and enjoying the swims of your heads in a comfortable silence. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breaks the silence with a chuckle before sliding down between your legs again. 

“W-Wha—”

Prying your legs apart, his eyes land on your pussy that’s dripping with his cum and he lets out a guttural groan at the dirty view. He gives your clit a chaste kiss and your hips buck up into his face as he gathers his juices onto his tongue, tasting the otherworldly mix of your juices. 

“I’m cleaning you up, babe.”

Flushing red like summer cherries with a hazy smile dancing on your lips, you whimper. “H-Ho—”

He cuts you off by diving right back in to lick a stripe up your slit and you jolt, both legs trembling and breath hitching in your throat. Soon, he has his face buried deep in your cunt again, lapping at your cunt and even throws both of your thighs over his shoulders to keep you from slamming your legs shut. 

It’s so fucking filthy. And so unbelievably hot. 

When Jungkook pulls back with his spellbinding smile, licking the leftover juices on his lips, you feel as though you might come for the second time. He surges forward to meet your lips and your head spins from tasting the sweetness of your juices together. 

He places another tender kiss to your forehead before settling onto his back and you naturally roll yourself over, nuzzling snuggly into his warm embrace. 

It’s a cuddle fest in the middle of the bed arms thrown over each other, legs entangled despite the remaining sweat and love juices. Jungkook is grinning hazily at you, breathless, and he feels his heart do a fucking waltz. He sure can live with this. 

When morning arrives, the sun is shining through a different window than you’re used to and you’re not your bed. The air is orange and the sunlight that bounces off the bedroom walls is nothing but welcoming. Rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you see fragments of dust in the air, whirling around like snowflakes. 

Beside you on the bed is Jungkook, who’s sleeping soundly, with dishevelled locks and swollen lips and the rise and fall of his chest comforts you more than you’d ever know.

At this, the memories of last night come rushing back to you almost immediately and your heart gnaws at how real this is. You look around Jungkook’s room. You see the few pictures on his wall and you spot one with you in it, sending your heart ricocheting even more furiously in your ribcage. There’s a fire within you that’s made of soft, satin embers whenever you think about him.

You can still remember the moment you first laid eyes on Jungkook – how you were clouded with anger about the boy who stole your seat during lecture. Who would have ever imagined that you’d be here in his bed, hopelessly in love with him. 

Jungkook starts stirring awake in his sleep when he feels a sliver of warm sunrays permeate the thin skin of his eyelids. When he fully opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of a beaming you (he thinks that you outshine the sun, but he decides to keep those thoughts to himself) staring straight at his face. 

Your smile doesn't falter or diminish when you’re caught, but only increases, as a soft good morning leaves your lips, while the tip of your tongue tastes of honey sweet and last night’s dalliance. He mumbles a good morning back, planting a kiss on your lips and the two of you look at each other. 

This is something. To be seen by another human being. To be vulnerable and transparent with no filters. To be transparent. This something is love. Love that’s easy. Like a liquid or gas. Love that finds its way in. Love in its simplest form. Love that the two of you understand.  

“Breakfast?” You card your fingers through his locks, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Only if you help me with the microwave.”

From the warmth of your caramel eyes, to the tender slope of your nose and to the apple of your cheeks, his eyes soften at the sight. 

“Actually… Maybe I should do it instead,” he adds, his chocolate brown eyes flicker from you to your fingers, lacing your fingers with his. 

“Huh?”

“Well, I can’t let the microwave explode on you, can I? I’d never bring any harm to you.”

“Dude… That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” you grin, humour colouring the corners of your mouth. 

“I poured my heart out to you and you think this is the sweetest? Geez. And you just dude-d me after I fucked you so good last night?”

“Shush, love is a willingness to sacrifice.”

A summer-night silence which lay for a thousand miles envelopes the two of you, both of you just enjoying the swim of your heads. 

Jungkook breaks the silence, voice softer than ever, “I do, you know?”

“Huh?” 

He reaches for your hand and brings it up to his lips, pressing tender kisses on your knuckles, with the little stars glistening in the velvet night sky of his eyes, “I do love you.”

But before you could respond, a beep comes from your phone and you instinctively reach out for it. 

[From: Namjoon]

[12:37] for fuck’s sake… the walls are thin in this humble abode fyi

[12:37] our poor ears…

[12:37] you guys went from figuratively fucking each other up to literally fucking each other

[12:37] as least you guys… are happy and not trying to kill each other

[12:37] happy that you all have found love uwu i can cry right now 

“Fucking loser,” you mutter as you hand Jungkook your phone to view the incoming messages. “Namjoon’s onto us. This is so embarrassing.”

“I think we were a little too loud last night.”

“And whose fault is that?” You tease with a waggle of your eyebrows. 

“I’d take credit where it’s due,” he laughs and you don’t miss the glint of mischief that hides underneath the flutter of his eyelashes as he engulfs you in another tight embrace. 

You think you like this, maybe a little too much: your head on his broad chest, his chin on your head as you lie snug in his arms, fingers interlaced, heartbeats as one. You adore how perfectly your body fits in Jungkook’s calming embrace, how he holds you like you are his world, not too tight and not too loose. Like you hold the stars in his eyes in place. 

“You make me weak, Jungkook,” you murmur softly like the way a snowflake would fall, lips hovering over hips. 

He hums in response and presses a kiss to your forehead. Brushing your hand gingerly over the latter’s jaw, a smile flutters on the edges of your lips with utter adoration, with a love so blazingly radiant that it rivals the intensity of the sun. 

Pressing your lips onto Jungkook’s, you whisper, deciding to dismantle the high walls of your heart for good, “But I love you. So much that I don’t mind being weak with you.”

Note | Finally.... it’s up. A big phat uwu, everyone!! 45 pages on word doc. It has been a long, insane ride writing this – I think I started in August after posting Set On You. For my lovelies who’ve been waiting for this fic since forever, thank you for waiting and expressing your excitement for it! I love you guys so much :( I’m such a slow writer sksdjsdsdsd and I don’t know why my fics are always so long – it’s like I have so many things I want to write and I can’t leave out any scene?? Formatting it on this site takes up like an hour,,, but wbk. 

Thank you for reading this and if you enjoyed it, hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu in my inbox/dms! ♡ Merry Christmas and have a great 2019! There will be more fics to come (probably shorter ones... pl0x)

Also, I added my thigh kink for you Ash uwu @jiminspjm 

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[winchester-ofthe-lord]

What Doesn’t Kill You

Pairing: Castiel x Dean Winchester

Warnings: severely injured Dean, almost character death, mild gore, angst

Word Count: 1.666 (yes, I’m proud of that hellish number xD)

Challenge: Destiel Fresh Hits

Topic: Monster

Summary:  Cas was on his knees, cradling Dean’s head in both hands, forcefully shaking it. “Dean, you have to stay with me! You hear me? Stay with me!”

This couldn’t be happening. Dean couldn’t be dying.

Not now. Not today. Not like this.

read on ao3

“Dean! Dean!” Cas was on his knees, cradling Dean’s head in both hands, forcefully shaking it. “Dean, you have to stay with me! You hear me? Stay with me!” He was begging, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt, desperately trying to keep the barely conscious man in front of him awake. Blood oozed through his fingers holding tightly onto the limp head. Red fatality trickled across the back of his trembling hands, dripped onto the cold stone floor. “Please- Dean.” It was in vain. A futile attempt.

Cas’ head nodded forward, his chin met his own chest. His eyes pressed shut. Fought against the tears seething behind his eyelids.

This couldn’t be happening.

Not now. Not today. Not like this.

“What did you do to him?” he growled through gritted teeth, pulling Dean up, pressing him tightly against his chest. Cas soothingly rocked him in his arms.

Cas snapped his head towards the dark figure leaning languidly against the railing above them, the flashing of gloating, sharp white teeth being the only thing he could make out in the blackness.

“Oh Castiel,” the dark figure started and tsked disparagingly. “The question isn’t what I did to him, but rather why I did it.” The figure pushed itself back from the railing, spread its long arms and shrugged nonchalantly. “And the answer to that, before you ask, is very simple. Because I fucking can!” The laugh that followed was nothing but ugly.

Dean’s body went slack in Cas’ arms. “No! Please, no. Dean!” Trembling fingers searched for a pulse. It was low, barely there, shallow and erratic, but he was still alive...barely.

Cas carefully lowered the unconscious body back on the floor, tenderly stroking Dean’s scruffy cheek for a brief moment before he stood up again, drawing himself to his full height. Gazing blue eyes glared upwards to the still broadly smiling creature, as Castiel took a step forward.

“I don’t care about your unreasonable motives, you son of a bitch,” -an inevitable side-effect of living and spending a huge amount of time with Dean- “What did you do to him?” Cas repeated, bristling with rage. His angel blade materialized in his right hand, the pointy tip, gleaming silver, mirroring the flashing of the monster’s teeth.

“Oh c’mon, Castiel. What are you gonna do now, huh-” a malicious smirk- “Angel?”

Cas flinched painfully at the word. Fingers gripping tighter around the cold metal of his blade, knuckles turning white. This... thing couldn’t possibly know about his current state. It just couldn’t.

“What, no snarky response?” the dark figure sneered and disappeared from where it stood on the gallery on the mezzanine level.

Cas froze on the spot. Throwing frenzied looks in every direction, his panic mounted up sky-high, made every nerve ending in his body buzz with adrenaline. Where did that bastard go? He’s gotta be somewh-

“Lookin’ for me?”

Castiel wheeled around. Nothing. The little hairs in the back of his neck were still tingling from the hot breath the monster whispered against the shell of his ear.

Without his angel powers he had to rely solely on his very limited human senses.

His eyes were useless, however, as the large room was only dimly lit by the moonlight shining through a thin crack in one of the boarded up windows. A metallic tinge of Dean’s blood hung in the air, nothing else.

The man held his breath to focus on his hearing. But apart from his own pulse pounding in his ears and the ragged, agonized, raspy gasps of the love of his life on the floor he couldn’t hear a damn thing.

“What’s wrong, Angel?”

There was that word again. This time though, it resounded from above Cas’ head and his eyes roamed over the gallery once more. And again, he couldn’t see a thing. No figure. No teeth. Nothing.

It had been his own choice after all. He had decided to extract his grace. He had chosen to become human. He had wanted this. For himself. For Dean. For them. But if that meant that Dean was dying now, just because Castiel had been selfish and had wanted his happily ever after with his righteous man, he could never forgive himself.

“C’mon Castiel,” the voice hissed from the other side of the room, “This is getting boring.”

Anger was boiling in his stomach and spilled into a furious snarl as soon as Cas opened his mouth, “Oh yeah? How about you show yourself, you pathetic coward!” He quickly glanced at Dean who was still lying unconscious on the floor, blood trickling from his ears in a sluggish, nevertheless constant flow. The sight made Castiel’s heart wrench painfully.

Hang in there, Dean, he thought, sending silent prayers to a father who never listened, to brothers and sisters who abandoned him, I’m getting us out of here. Just hold on. Please, Dean. Just hold on.

“What is it, loverboy, you gonna try and kill me now?”

This time Castiel turned around, facing the direction the voice came from, he could make out a vague shape against the silvery moonlight. The figure was baring its pointy teeth again, girdled by leathery lips that merged into the scaly black skin of the monster’s face. A dark purple tongue, forked in the front, peeked through the white teeth, leaving a glistening shimmer on the lips.

“What are you?” Cas growled, angel blade still in his hand, as he glared into dark eyes.

The monster dissolved into thin air once again, but immediately reappeared right next to Dean’s limp body on the floor, his own angel blade still loosely held in his slack hand.

“Get away from him!” the former angel barked and dashed towards their direction, causing the creature to disappear again.

It materialized back on the mezzanine level, “Easy there, Castiel, he’ll be dead soon anyway...two minutes tops. I don’t need to hurt him any more. He’s already suffering more than you could ever imagine.” The monster’s chuckle sent shivers down Cas’ spine. Or maybe it were its words. At this point it didn’t matter anymore.

“I’m asking you again,” he started, voice indefinitely deep and menacing, nostrils quivering with pure rage, “What are you?”

“Why does that matter, Angel? You can’t kill me. You fool, you can’t even see me if I don’t let you.” The creature dissipated again.

Castiel was exasperated, desperate, exhausted. He had no idea what he was dealing with. No idea how to kill it. Or how he could save Dean. How to get out of this goddamn warehouse. He swallowed thickly. Scrubbed his left hand over his face. Took a deep breath.

“Let us go,” he demanded. It was worth a try.

“Oh, where’d be the fun in that, huh?” the monster cackled. “Nuh-uh, loverboy, I’m afraid I can’t do that. As soon as my venom has spread enough, your boyfriend here-” it teleported back next to Dean- “will finally die and then,” it crouched down, stepping into a pool of blood next to Dean’s less and less heaving chest in the process. “I will eat him. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Tears of anger and grief threatened to well up in Cas’ eyes as he watched the creature reach out a clawed hand towards Dean’s head.

I’m sorry, Dean, Castiel dropped down on his knees, only a few steps separating him from the love of his life. It could’ve been miles just as well. He wouldn’t have been able to reach him in time. Couldn’t have done anything to save him anyway. I’m so sorry, Dean. I’m sorry...I came too late... I love you, Dean... I’m sorry.

He watched the monster drag a long black finger across Dean’s neck, smearing through the trace of blood that was still seeping from his ear.

Cas couldn’t stop staring. I'm so sorry, Dean... I love you...

The creature brought its finger, now covered in Dean’s blood, up to its lips and sucked the syrupy liquid into its mouth, moaning abominably around it before it closed its eyes.

Cas stared at the monster. Then at Dean. Stared at Dean’s chest. It had stopped moving. Why wasn’t it moving? That would mean- No... No! He can’t be-

Cas’ lips mouthed a silent, defeated ‘Dean’.

I'm so sorry...

I came too late...

I love you...

Dean...

The bloodcurdling death cry of the black scaled thing ripped Castiel from his state of shock. He was still just staring, petrified, unable to move more than his eyelids. He blinked the blurriness from his eyes.

The first thing that came back to his focus was Dean’s back draped over the black monster. Dean’s slightly moving back. It was moving. He was breathing.

Dean was alive.

The monster, on the other hand, was not. Dean’s angel blade was buried to the hilt in the creature’s chest, purple blood trickling over the scale covered skin, mixing with Dean’s blood on the floor. The pool of mixed blood was glowing purple, smokey light slowly dissolved into thin air around the two bodies in front of Castiel’s eyes.

“Dean?” Cas whispered around the lump in his throat. He finally managed to regain control over his body and stumbled three staggering steps forward before he tumbled over again. He reached a shaking hand out and grabbed Dean by his shoulder, turning him over and off of the monster.

Glistening green eyes blinked tiredly at Castiel. “Dean,” he repeated, this time in relief, silent tears falling from his eyes onto Dean’s blood-soaked flannel. He took Dean’s face in both hands again, brought their lips together forcefully.

When their mouths parted after a kiss that said more than words ever could, Cas let his forehead rest against Dean’s and they just breathed in synch for a few minutes.

Dean stirred beneath him and the former angel lifted his head to look at the other man’s face.

A barely there smile greeted him, voice weak and grating. “Hiya Cas.”

[lilyswritings]

Walk Away

author’s note: This was written for the lovely @fanaticwritings’ 2.7k challenge! I’m super happy to be part of this, and as you all know I’m a SUCKER for some angst, so I just had to have this prompt! I am not super happy with the ending, and it’s a little shorter than normal, but I hope you enjoy anyway! Also, sorry for cutting the deadline so close... I had a lot of family stuff going on.

prompt: “You should have walked away, when you had the chance.”

warnings: mentions of guns, violence, blood, but (way) less graphic than Supernatural.

wordcount: 680

Dean Winchester x Reader

   The abandoned farmhouse is eerily silent, the only sound being the wind whistling through the cracks in the wooden walls. You clutch your handgun to your side, tucked against a wooden panel with your ear positioned next to the doorway. The silence that surrounds you should be comforting – nothing there means nothing dangerous, but as a creaking sound echoes around the room again, you narrow your eyes and rest your finger on the trigger.

   Another creak, closer this time, and you whip out of hiding, pistol-barrel first. A hand clamps down on the metal of the gun and pushes it down and away, forcing your reflexes to kick in; you use the momentum of the push to turn and kick the stomach of your attacker, wasting no time to spin and re-aim at-

   Dean. 

   “Easy, tiger.” He rasps, hand on his stomach as he regulates his breathing.

    “Shit, Dean.” You exclaim, mildly annoyed, before a glance around reminds you of your situation. “What are you doing here?” You ask, lowering your weapon. 

   “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to rescue you.” The cocky smirk accompanying the statement could have fooled anyone else, but you know Dean better than he knows himself – you can see the concern hiding in his green eyes. 

   “I told you not to come-” You sigh, but he cuts you off, and you can see the irritation seeping into his face. 

   “No, you left a note and ran away in the middle of the night.” He corrects, eyes narrowing, but you ignore the dig and keep talking.

    “-because this is something I have to do, by myself.”

    “Dammit, Y/N-”

   “-I don’t need saving, Dean!” You finally burst, lowering your gun and raking a hand through your hair.

   “You think I don’t know that?” He asks, face finally set into a grim line and all hints of his smirk gone. “You think I haven’t seen you kick ass enough times to know you can handle yourself?” 

   “Then why are you here?”

   “Because I care about you! And you can’t do this alone!” 

   “It has to be me! I have to do this- This witch killed my parents, Dean. She took everything from me. I have to be the one to do this.” Your voice verges on desperation, now, your eyes pleading as you rest your gun on your thigh.

   “Not alone.” Dean replies, tone firm as he matches your steady gaze. “I’m not losing you too.”

   You finally drop your stubborn gaze as his voice cracks, biting the inside of your lip as you think over the (very close to a goodbye) letter that you left him. 

   “I can’t lose you either. That’s why I... I guess that’s why I couldn’t tell you I was doing this. I knew you’d insist on coming. If this witch ends up killing you-” 

  You’re cut off by the sound of a floorboard creaking and you whip around, gun at the ready, to meet the face of the witch herself. Her white blonde hair is pulled into a long braid that rests almost halfway down her dark purple dress. The scar on her cheek – the one you’d managed to give her in your raging grief – stands out against her otherwise perfect features. She looks the same,

  “Oh no, don’t stop the love confession on my behalf.” She teases, icy blue eyes almost glowing in the darkened room. “What will you do if I kill him?”

  With a flick of her wrist, Dean goes flying into the back wall and stays stuck to it, arms plastered to the wood and a murderous glint in his green eyes. 

  “Let him go, you bitch.” You spit out, turning off the safety and holding your finger over the trigger. 

  “You know, that’s almost exactly the same expression you had when you…” She trails off, her fingers trailing over her scar. “Well, you know when. That was right after you saw me slitting your dear mommy’s throat, wasn’t it?”

   A cry of outrage tears out of your throat, the threat of tears stinging your eyes as you press the trigger. In the blink of an eye, though, the spot where the witch was standing is empty and your body is thrown against the wall, next to Dean.

   “Let me guess, an illusion?” Dean grits out, murder in his eyes, and your heart flares painfully with how much you love him.

   “Smart boy.” The witch replies, stepping out of the shadows of the other room. You struggle against the force holding you to the wall, but nothing happens and she sighs as she watches you.

   “You, however... I don’t know, I guess I just expected more,” She drawls, almost disappointedly, pulling a bundle out from her belt and unwrapping it in her hands. “I mean, you’ve spent so long waiting for this moment, this grand revenge scheme, and... This is it?” 

   She looks back up at you, eyes glinting, and you catch sight of the dagger in her hand. You know from your research that it is an athames, and you know from the nightmares that plague you at night that it is the same one she killed your parents with.

   You tug at the force again, jaw clenched and eyes wide as you glance between her and Dean. His eyes meet yours, his brow furrowed, and you can feel the panic clawing at your throat as she takes a step towards him. 

   “It seems you’ve figured out how this is going to go, then.” She says, her smile curving the ends of her lips as she gestures between you and Dean with her dagger. “Twelve years ago, a demon asked me to take two lives with this dagger, in exchange for a strengthening of my powers,”

   “It seems we will be repeating history, today. I no longer answer to demons, but... This is too good to pass up.” 

   Your heart pounds as she steps towards you, her eyes focused on your neck and her dagger glinting in the moonlight. Dean lets out an almost-growl, straining against her powers. 

   “You touch her and you’ll be dead before you hit the floor.” He warns, voice low and jaw tense. 

   The witch huffs. “You know what?” Her mouth hardens into a scowl, eyeing Dean. “Really, all I need is to kill her. Finish off the family. I’ll make this easy on you - walk away, Winchester. Right now. Return to Sammy dearest, live your life, blah blah blah.” 

   She steps towards you, trailing the tip of her dagger over your collarbone and watching with delight as a thin trail of crimson pops up along the line. “If you leave now, I won’t come after you.”

   Dean looks at you, his green eyes glancing between you and the witch and his brow furrowed. The hesitation makes your heart fall into your stomach, and you can tell what he’s going to say before he says it.

   “How can I guarantee you won’t kill me?” 

   She barks out a laugh, turning to look at you. “Apparently your loverboy doesn’t actually care for you.”

   Your gaze falls to the floor - of course he should take the out. He has to go back to Sam, to Cas, to his life. But you can’t ignore the sharp stab of pain you feel at him leaving you. 

   The witch stalks over to him, narrowing her eyes before shrugging. “You walk through that door, I have no reason to kill you. I finish what I started, then I’m gone.”

   He pauses, the muscle in his neck tense, before nodding tersely.

   “Seems like he isn’t willing to die for you. I knew he was a smart one.” She smirks, waving a hand, and Dean slides down the wall and his boots hit the wooden floor with a thud. He glances at you, eyes soft and almost sad, before turning and walking out the door.

   You take a deep breath in, watching him leave, before the witch turns to face you again. She lifts the dagger, muttering a few arcanic words under her breath, before pressing the tip into the flesh of your chest, right above your heart.

   You cry out, tilting your face towards the ceiling as a few hot tears run down your cheeks. Is this it? You can’t help but wonder, the burn of the blade against your chest almost too much to bear, before her hand stills and her eyes narrow. 

   The metallic sound of a gun being cocked resonates through the empty house, and you release a breath of almost laughter as the witch turns to face Dean. 

   “And here I thought you were smart,” She mutters, raising an eyebrow. “But I’m a witch, darling, bullets don’t work on me.”

   Dean doesn’t respond, his eyes trained on the growing spot of red on your chest and the tear tracks on your cheeks. His jaw clenches, the muscle in his neck ticking, before he makes eye contact with you.

   “I’m okay.” You reassure him, but the witch takes Dean’s distraction to raise a hand, and you watch with horror as the dagger flies through the air and sinks into his side. You watch him to cry out with horror.

   “No!” You shout as Dean groans, sinking to the floor, though you notice that he keeps the pistol out in front of him despite the pain.

   “My aim’s a little off, but I-” 

   She doesn’t finish her sentence before the witch-killing bullet hits her forehead. Thanks, Sammy, you think, remembering the day he’d discovered how to make them.

   The second she hits the floor, the force keeping you against the wall dissipates, and you push yourself over to where he’s still crouched. Your shaky hands rip his shirt, tugging it away from where the dagger sits in his flesh.

   “Take a guy out to dinner first.” He wheezes as you pull his shirt away, and you take a deep breath as you examine the wound. Not life-threatening, you determine, and sigh with relief as you use the scraps of his shirt to press around the wound, staunching the bleeding.

   “You should have walked away, when you had the chance.” You say, jaw clenched, and he scoffs. 

   “And missed the chance to add to my scar collection? No way.” He retorts, but you shakily wipe at your face and his face goes somber instantly. “Hey, I’m okay.”

   “She could have killed you.” You say, scolding yourself as the tears begin to fall again. 

   “I’m right here, sweetheart.” Dean reassures you, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek, and you hold it in place between your shoulder and your head. “God, when I saw her holding that knife, I thought...” He trails off, and you know what he’s going to say because you’d thought he was dead when she’d thrown the knife.

   “No more life-threatening heroics, okay?” You manage a shaky, tearful smile, and he nods, grimacing as you help him stand.

   “Okay.” He agrees, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and holding you close as you press a kiss to his lips. “You have to promise the same, though.” He mutters into your hair as he holds you, and you laugh softly.

   “Okay.” You help him walk, pushing him in the passenger seat of the Impala, and going over to the driver’s seat. “Let’s go home.”

[bonkybornes]

Never Gonna Give You Up

The credit for this oneshot goes to the person who’s probably the only thing reminding me to write at the moment(sorry about that, I’m trying): @elegantdragoncolor

"Damn it Cas." Dean stood, watching over Cas as he slept, "I wanted to stay here but if you leave me, I won't survive. All of this crap we've been through? It has torn me apart so many times that I don’t know who I am anymore, but you do. You always picked up the pieces and I was selfish! I knew it would cost you something eventually, but I kept pushing and going things I shouldn't have. I know that I'm selfish, but if you don't wake your ass up I will collapse. Please" what started as a shout turned into a whisper as dean ended his monologue. Cas had saved him from hell again, and this time it had taken a toll. It had been weeks since he had been awake, but Cas was breathing, and that was enough to keep Dean fighting for him.

-

"Dean, Dean!" The older Winchester woke to his brother smacking him on the chest lightly, his eyes drifted to Cas to make sure he was okay. "He's waking up." Sam told him. It was as if someone had injected caffeine into Dean's veins, he rushed over to the bed where Cas had laid for the past few weeks.

"Cas? You with me?" Dean bit his lip as his hand found it's way to the angel's chest. Relief flooded his heart as slivers of muffled blue peeked from behind Cas's eyelids.

"Dean?"

-

"So you're saying there's nothing you can do to help him?" Sam hardly ever raised his voice but this doctor was really starting to piss him off.

"I'm sorry. At this point it would probably be best for you to consider admitting him somewhere he would be comfortable, not everyone can handle taking care of people like him." The doctors had run multiple tests on Cas to try and figure out what happened to him, the results didn’t come back as a specific disease but they had an unfortunate list of symptoms to guide them. Dean grit his teeth and summoned up all his anger, glancing at Cas through the window outside his room. He was coloring a page the hospital had given him.

"You listen here, you dick. I have seen him at his worst, which trust me doc, is worse than he is now. So this? I can handle this." The doctor kept a poker face through Dean's speech, as though she'd heard more like it.

"Mr. Smith, Mr. Novak has epilepsy, is blind in both eyes, deaf in one ear and deteriorating in the other, and has the worst case of cognitive disfiguration I have ever seen. Think it over." She handed him a brochure for 'Sandy Beaches Care Center' and headed in the other direction.

-

The ripped up brochure sat in pieces on the floor as the trio made their way out of the hospital.

"Dean, why do I have to sit in the wheely chair? My legs feel fine." Cas asked, eyes sliding to where dean was signing him out.

"Its just a rule the hospital has, just to make sure you make it out without falling." He whispered a small thanks to the receptionist and continued pushing Cas down the hall, Sam following behind.

"Oh." Cas furrowed his brow, "That's dumb."

"Yeah buddy, it is." The elevator doors closed, bringing them down to the ground floor.

-

Dean never got a good nights sleep, but some nights were worse than others. This was one of those nights. Guilt consumed him as the tears slipped down his face, a hand over his mouth to muffle the noises coming out. This was all his fault, Cas did this for him. Cas was this way because of him. Because he sold his soul again, because he couldn't just live with the fact that Sam was going to die, because he had to play the hero again. Dean hated this with every fiber in his being, and the worst part? He would do it all over again. He would do it again because even if Cas wasn't himself, dean could still have both of them. Most nights were sleepless for Dean, but this time he fell asleep with tears staining his cheeks.

-

"Cas, time for breakfast." Dean nudged the angel gently, pulling him out of his dreams.

"Pancakes?" Cas peeked an eye open, though it didn’t make much of a difference in his sight.

"They're on the table." Dean smiled sleepily. The boys made their way to the kitchen where Sam was waiting for them.

"Morning Cas." Sam greeted managing to look away from his phone to smile.

"Good morning Sam." Cas answered. Dean followed him to his seat and set a plate of pancakes down in front of him.

"Hey, the doctor called this morning to schedule Cas's hearing aid fitting." Sam announced, "It's at four on Tuesday."

"Where's it at?"

"Uh, Saint Paul Hearing Center. 4949 Russell street." Sam sipped his coffee.

"Alright, I got that one. Made an eye appointment for him too, three today at Walmart." Dean stated.

"I'll take that one, hit the books and look for spells to help." Sam finished his pancakes and set his plate in the sink, heading to his bathroom to shower.

"Stop by the pharmacy while you're out!" Dean yelled after him. "Alright buddy, TV time."

-

As scooby doo played on the TV, dean found it hard to concentrate on the spell book in front of him. He'd seen all of the episodes but it was still entertaining. Dean snapped out of his trance when he heard his glass shattering. He looked up to Cas, only to see that he had fallen to the floor shaking, a seizure.

The hunter straddled Cas, pinning his arms to the floor in an attempt to hold him down. The doctor had said that the only thing they could do was make sure he didn’t get hurt and make sure he took his meds.

It lasted about fifteen minutes, Cas shaking and Dean praying to whatever deities and gods were out there for cas to be okay. Finally the shaking stopped and he came back into consciousness.

"Hey, hey, Cas?" Dean climbed off of his hips. "You're okay, you had a seizure." They sat for a few seconds as Cas came to. "You wanna lay in bed and listen to some cartoons?" Cas nodded his head weakly.

It was times like this when Dean wished he had been smarter.

-

"Hey, how is he?" Sam asked, leaning up against the door to Cas's room. Dean let out a breath and turned to look at Cas.

"He had a seizure while you were in the shower, left him a little shaken up. We'll have to reschedule the appointment." Sam nodded mutely.

"I'll call. How are you?" Dean's eyes didn’t leave the angel as he spoke.

"I'm fine, Sammy."

-

"Alright Cas, time to get ready. You have your hearing appointment in two hours." It had been about a week and Cas was doing a little better, his eye appointment had gone well. Even though his glasses couldn't do much for him, Cas picked out a yellow rectangular pair. Yellow was his favorite color.

"But I don’t wanna go!" The tantrums had started a few days ago, and nobody in the house was liking it.

"Cas, it won't be scary. I promise. I'll stay by your side and it won't hurt at all. Okay?" Cas furrowed his eyebrows but nodded.

The drive to the hearing center was longer than Dean would have liked it to be but it was worth it, even if Cas didn't technically need it yet. The doctor had said that Cas's hearing was deteriorating in one ear so it seemed only fair to him that they make it as good as they can.

"Sir, technically he doesn't need a hearing aid. He's completely deaf in one ear and the other one is still in pretty good condition!" Dean's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Are you deaf, Dr. Herring? Hear me when I say, you will give him a damn hearing aid or so help me I will ruin this business. Capiche?" The doctor nodded fearfully, his smile full of nerves.

"One hearing aid, coming right up!"

-

"Dean, maybe it would be best to consider the home." Jody suggested. It had hurt enough coming from other people, but Jody? "You could still visit him!"

"Jody, if I died tomorrow and some assclown tried to put him in a home. I would mosey my way back into the veil, and I would go vengeful spirit on their ass so fast, they wouldn’t even have time to take a breath. It's not happening." Sam stood behind him with his arms crossed, mouth opening to support his brother's statement.

"You heard him Jody, we wouldn't do it."

-

"Hey, Dean. Get this, a couple was burnt to death at a benefit for homeless kids in Alabama. Sounds like Rowena's M.O.." Dean took a swig of beer.

"You go check it out, I'll stay with Cas. Hes got a checkup on Friday." Sam made his way to his room to start packing.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll go grocery shopping on my way back."

-

"It's a complicated book with a lot of complicated spells! I'd need time to look over it.' They'd found Rowena, and currently were having a chat about the book of the damned and if any spells in it would help Cas.

"So stay here, figure it out!" Dean's patience was running thin. The witch widened her eyes in mock surprise.

"He's a wee bit invested isn't he? Don't worry Dean, I'll get loverboy back to his original state in no time. After all, I do owe you one." She sent a wink Sam's way. "I'll need some items." Sam crossed his arms.

"Make a list."

-

"Is Rowena a nice witch, or a bad witch?" Cas asked.

"That's hard to say. She wouldn't do anything to hurt you but she's not very nice sometimes." Dean supplied as he put Cas's hearing aid in for the day.

"I think that deep down she's a good witch, she's just angry in her heart." Cas said, blindly feeling his bed sheets.

"I think you might be right about that one buddy." Dean replied. There was a pause before Cas spoke again.

"Why does your soul feel so sad today?" The hunter was a bit shocked by the words.

"My soul? How do you know what my soul feels like?" Dean asked.

"I don’t know, but it feels sad today. Why does it feel sad?"

"Well, sometimes humans get sad because something happened, or because they feel guilty, or sometimes just for no reason at all." Dean answered.

"You don’t need to feel any of those things Dean, I wanted to save you. I love you!" The angel hugged him with excitement as Dean tried to keep his breathing under control. This was not the way he thought this would go.

"Love you too buddy." He said, patting the angel on the back and hugging him back.

-

"That's the last of it." Rowena announced. "Now you just need to say these words." She handed a paper to Dean. He took a deep breath and spoke the incantation.

"Fige me maledicti convertam te auditus et visus, gustus, olfactus, corporis animique inveniunt novis, vertunt in via." At first the room didn't change, it seemed the spell hadn't worked. Then Cas dropped to the floor, eerily still. A gasp escaped his throat just seconds later as his eyes unclouded and his brain righted itself.

"Dean? What happened? What's in my ear?" Dean's face lit up, the spell had worked after all.

"You saved me from hell again, but this time something happened to you." Dean proceeded to explain the entire situation, leaving out a few details along the way.

[luciferismyhomeboy]

You Stole My Heart - Part 2

Author’s Note: Formatting is awful because this was done on my phone...sorry! This time Lucifer only shut himself in his room for a few days before re-emerging. By this point, Dean, Sam, and Cas were home from their hunt and the four of you were in the kitchen, enjoying some nachos that you had made and some booze. The archangel walked into the room and the merriment stopped.

Dean and Sam still weren’t fond of Lucifer and Castiel always seemed torn. Lucifer just stood there, glowering at everyone before turning towards the cabinet where the cereal was kept.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” He muttered, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet.

“Nonsense.” You said immediately, full of liquid courage from the whiskey you had been drinking. “Come sit down and have some fun.”

Lucifer turned and looked at you. You patted the chair next to you and smiled. His gaze slide from your welcoming face to the stony faces of the brothers.

“No.” He said, turning back to the bowl he was about to fill.

“Well at least have some nachos.” You pressed. “It must have been at least a month since you had hot food. Y’know, since you can’t work a microwave.”

He sneered at you, but just then his stomach rumbled so loudly you could hear it across the room.

“They’re gooooood.” You sang, holding the platter out to him.

He seemed to be waging an internal war with himself and his pride lost. He scowled and grabbed a few chips off the platter and put them on a plate.

“Just to shut you up.” He muttered. He took the plate of nachos and his bowl of cereal, and stalked out of the room.

A few hours later, he was back. Sam had gone off to bed, Dean was snoring at the table, and Cas was off doing whatever it was that angels did. You were at the sink doing up the few dishes from the night when you heard him walk into the room.

“Hey,” You said, not bothering to turn around and look at him. “Did you come back for some more nachos?”

There was silence and you turned around, thinking you had maybe somehow been mistaken about who was standing there. But you hadn’t and Lucifer was there in the doorway.

“I’ve never had hot food before.” He stated simply.

You felt a pang of pity for him and you grabbed a small plate of nachos out of the oven.

“I saved these for you. I had to fend Dean off, but that wasn’t too difficult. I had a feeling you’d be back.”

Lucifer’s eyes rested on the plate and he stepped forward gratefully to grab it, but you pulled it back. He scowled at you.

“I’m going to teach you how to use the microwave.” You said as explanation. He rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, but it didn’t deter you.

You turned and opened the machine, placing the small plate inside. “Nothing metal, nothing plastic. The numbers over here correspond to how many minutes you want to heat something up for. Like for these, you’ll probably want to do two minutes to get the cheese to be all gooey and delicious again.”

You hit the button for two minutes and turned to face him.

“Not too hard, right?”

He shrugged noncommittally.

“Well, at least now you can heat food up.” You said. “And my good deed for the day is done.”

You finished up the last dish while the microwave was going and you were done by the time it beeped. You pulled the nachos out and handed them to the archangel.

“Careful, they’re hot.” You said. Lucifer took the plate gingerly.

“Alright, well, I’m off to bed.” You stated. “Have a good night.”

“But, I’m being social.” Lucifer said with shock in his voice.

It was your turn to be shocked. “At three in the morning?”

He scowled at you. “Never mind then.”

You were so tired. So tired. “If you want to eat your nachos in my room while I get ready for bed, that’s fine. But I’m exhausted and that’s about all the social I can handle right now.”

Lucifer mulled it over for a second and then nodded. He followed after you as you strode down the hallway and into the corner room that you called your own. You turned on Netflix quickly and put on some of The Office while Lucifer sat on your bed and began eating his nachos. You grabbed some shorts and a tank top and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

After changing and going through the rest of your night time routine, you walked out to see Lucifer completely engrossed in the show. The plate of nachos was empty and sitting on the nightstand.

Guess he likes to watch tv too. You thought to yourself.

“Alright, I’m done. Time to go.” You announced.

Lucifer looked up at you in surprise, like he had forgotten you were here. “But I want to find out what happens.” He protested, gesturing towards the television.

You rolled your eyes, but were too tired to argue. “Fine. But you have to move to the chair because I’m going to sleep.”

He moved from the end of your bed to the cozy armchair in the corner without looking away from the screen. You slid under your covers and glared at the archangel.

“After this episode is over, you leave. Got it?” You asked, grumpy.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucifer responded absently.

You clenched your jaw in irritation, but rolled over and went to sleep.

*

Lucifer had been gone as promised the next morning, but when you checked your Netflix account you could see that he had stayed in your room until he had finished the first season and was halfway through the second. It made you chuckle.

Your good mood ended once you checked your phone. “Y/N – need help. Plz hurry.”

“Shit.” You muttered. The text was from your ex, the only one who knew that you were a Hunter. He lived a normal life though and in the end, that was what had caused the split. He wanted you to settle down and get a normal 9-5. Not in this life time, buddy.

“What kind of trouble?” Dean asked gruffly. He knew all about Eddie.

You were packed and ready to leave ten minutes later. Dean intercepted you on the way to the garage where you kept your car.

“Where are you going?”

“Eddie’s in trouble. I have to go help him.”

“I don’t know.” You showed him the text and he looked troubled. “That could mean anything.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You know he wouldn’t contact me unless it was supernatural. I have to go.”

“Go where?” A voice asked from behind you. You turned to see Lucifer standing there, hands in pockets.

“I have to go help a friend for a little while.” You answered.

“Well, you shouldn’t go alone.” Dean said. “Maybe we should all go.”

You turned back to him. “No, I don’t even know what it is yet. Eddie doesn’t need all of us to be running into something with guns blazing. If I need help I’ll let you know.”

“Well, take Cas with you at least.”

“Dean, no, it’s fine. I really have to get going.”

“I’ll go.” Lucifer cut in.

You turned to look at him in astonishment and saw that he meant it. You turned back to look at Dean questioningly.

“No.” The elder Winchester growled. “Out of the question.”

“Why?” You asked. “He’s no use sulking around here. Might as well bring him with and see if he can help at all.”

The muscle in Dean’s jaw twitched. “I don’t like this.”

You patted him gently on the cheek. “You don’t have to, loverboy.”

You looked back over your shoulder. “Let’s go, Lucifer.”

“Bye, loverboy.” Lucifer said to Dean with a smirk and a little wave as he followed you to your car.

You gassed up the car outside of town and texted Eddie back that you would be there the next day. Then you and Lucifer set off.

“So what’s the deal?” You asked the archangel as you merged onto the highway. He gave you a questioning look. “Well, you haven’t been out of your room longer than 3 hours. Why did you come with me? We have to share a room, you know that right? Nowhere to hide when you go all pouty.”

He stared at you for a moment before facing the road. “I was bored.”

“Ah.” You said. “Well that makes sense. I do have a few rules though, since you’ll be on the Hunt with me. Rule Number 1: You have to do what I say.”

His head snapped around and he looked at you incredulously. You scowled at him.

“Lucifer, I mean it. I don’t care who or what you are, if you’re going to be Hunting with me, you have to do what I tell you.”

“Do Dean and Sam do what you tell them?” He asked hotly.

“Dean and Sam are experienced Hunters,” You shot back. “They can make their own decisions. You are an archangel who is used to relying on his powers to get him through fights. And you don’t have those powers anymore. Essentially you’re a human, and you’re a human who has never been a Hunt before. So you do what I say. Got it?”

Lucifer’s jaw worked furiously for a moment. No doubt if the two of you had been back in the bunker he would have stomped off to his room, but he was stuck in this car with you for the next day and a half. For some reason, that gave you immense satisfaction.

“I mean it.” You said firmly. “I don’t mean to put you down, but it is what it is. If you don’t want to agree to my rules, then that’s fine. I’ll pull off at the next rest area and Dean can come pick you up. But I need to know that you’ll listen to me. I need to be fully comfortable going into a Hunt.”

“Fine,” Lucifer muttered.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. “Great. Thanks. Rule 2: I take the lead in questioning people and everything else. That’s about it…I think.”

Lucifer nodded his agreement and the two of you rode in silence for a bit. The archangel seemed to be pouting a bit and you couldn’t blame him. He hated humans and he had just agreed to do whatever one said.

“Hey, thank you by the way.” You said, nudging his arm with your elbow.

He looked at you in surprise. “For what?”

“Well, it’s a long drive and I have no idea what I’m walking into. It’s…nice to have someone come along. I definitely thought I would be doing this alone. So thank you for volunteering.”

He looked uncomfortable. “How come you didn’t just have Dean or Sam come along then?”

You sighed. “Dean and Eddie don’t really get along. In fact, the last time Dean saw him, he punched him in the face. And Sam hated Eddie too. So it’s best just to go alone, especially if Eddie really needs help.”

He grinned a bit. “Dean hit him? Why?”

“He kept trying to get me to leave Hunting behind, even after I told him no multiple times. Dean didn’t really like that, so they ended up having some words. That conversation ended in a fist fight.”

“So like, is Eddie your brother or something?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “No, Eddie is an old boyfriend.”

The surprise on Lucifer’s face was plain as day. “A boyfriend?”

“Yeah. It didn’t end well.”

“Well, after Dean punched him in the face, I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, well that’s not where it ended. It ended when I punched him in the face for cheating on me while I was on a Hunt.”

Lucifer looked even more surprised now. “You punched him? YOU did?”

You laughed loudly at how incredulous he was. “Yeah, I did. I was so mad at him. I knocked him out too, right in front of the other girl. Then I took my stuff and left. That’s the last I’d heard from him since this morning.”

“Can’t say I blame him. You did punch him after all.”

You shot Lucifer a look. “He’s the one who cheated. He deserved it.”

“Yeah well, just remind me never to cheat on you.”

“Considering the fact that we’ll never date because I’m a human and you hate humans, I’d have to say you’re probably safe.”

He gave you a strange look that you could see from the corner of your eye. After a moment, he said, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He went back to looking out the window and you flipped on the radio.

[440mxs-wife]

In The City

Supernatural meets Law and Order, Part Two

You climbed back into Briscoe and Logan's cruiser and headed to the crime scene. This time, it wasn't the park, but a neighbor's backyard that had the familiar yellow tape around it. The three of you walked up to Scott Rivers, the on-scene tech to get the facts of the case as he knew them.

"What's the story here?" Briscoe asked.

"Same as before, claw marks, heart torn out and looks like the body was dragged here from actual kill site," Rivers answered as he looked you up and down. "And who is this?" he asked appreciatively.

"Mackenzie Reed, I'm a consultant hired to work on this case," you murmured as you walked around the scene. This was looking less and less like a werewolf attack to you, and more like something else, especially given the time of day. "Dammit. This is not good. Not good at all," you muttered.

You walked over to where Briscoe and Logan were standing with the tech, Rivers. "I think I've seen all I need to see, fellas. The rest can wait until we get the M.E.'s report," you declared. You got into the cruiser's back seat and Logan drove back to the station. Lennie bid you and Logan a good night and said he'd see you both in the morning.

"So, where are you staying?" Logan asked as you switched to the front seat.

"I was going to find some motel and hole up there till Sam and Dean got into town," you answered.

"Nah, don't do that. You can stay at my place," Logan offered.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Mike. I have a boyfriend, you know. I really don't think he'd be too keen on me spending the night in my ex-boyfriend's apartment," you explained.

"He knows we're still friends, right?" Logan asked. "Yes," you responded.

"He trusts you, right?" Logan persisted.

"Me? Yes. You? Big fat negatory, Ghost Rider," you replied.

Logan chuckled. "Come on. I promise nothing will happen. We'll order some Chinese food from that place you love, we'll swap war stories, then we'll go to sleep. In separate beds," he added.

"Fine. You in your room, me on the couch," you declared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour later, you and Logan had arrived at his apartment. You dug out your pajamas and your toiletries, then asked if you could borrow a towel for a shower. He agreed, and asked what you wanted for dinner. After you gave him your order, you stepped into the shower to wash off the grime from traveling and the crime scene.

While you were changing, Logan called out to tell you that he was going down to the corner store. He wanted to get some beverages and snacks for later, so you told him what you wanted. Even though deep down, you suspected he already knew, given that you had dated for three years.

You stepped out of the bathroom, fully refreshed and dirty clothes packed back into your luggage. Your phone rang and the Caller ID said it was Dean. "Hey, baby, I was just thinking about you. Where are you?" you wondered.

"Pennsylvania. We'll be there tomorrow afternoon, like I thought. Did you find a nearby motel you could stay at?" he asked. "Kenzie?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "No, Logan offered to let me stay in his apartment. I'm sleeping on the couch, though," you added quickly. You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself for the firestorm.

"Kenzie, if he tries anything...." Dean started.

"He won't. Because he knows he's in deep trouble if he does. He knows I'm capable of defending myself and won't hesitate to do so if it comes to that. Which it won't," you mentioned. "I promise you, Dean. Logan and I are just friends. When you and Sam get here, we'll go to a motel. One room for Sam, and one room to have all to ourselves," you said in a sultry voice.

"You promise?" Dean asked.

"Of course, my love. I even remembered to bring my 'special jammies', just for you. For tonight, though, I'll have to settle for cuddling with an extra pillow that I'll pretend is you," you chuckled. Turning more serious, you continued. "I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that. I told the LT that you are my world. And I meant it, Dean," you finished softly.

"Ah, Kenzie, I love you so much," Dean whispered.

"I know, Dean. I love you too. Can't wait to hear you roll up in your badass car and step out in your leather jacket. You'll impress the hell out of Mike's partner, Lennie, I'll just bet," you grinned as Logan walked back through the door. "Anyway, Logan's back with some food, so I'll talk to you later. See you soon, baby. Sweet dreams," you replied.

"Sweet dreams of you, Kenzie my love," Dean responded then disconnected the call. You stared down at your phone, a loving smile on your face as you thought of Dean.

"Was that 'Loverboy' on the phone?" Logan smirked.

"Yes, that was Dean. And just so you know? He likes you about as much as you like him," you retorted.

"Oh, good, and here I was afraid we wouldn't get along," he responded sarcastically.

"Logan, can we please not do this tonight? Let's just catch up, swap some stories, then get some sleep, okay?" you asked.

Logan sighed deeply before answering. "Okay fine, you win. Eat some food, tell some stories, then hit the rack. Right?" he answered.

You took a step closer and walked your fingers up his chest. "And uh, Mike? If you, um, try anything?" you said in a husky voice. He nodded, then you grabbed his argyle tie and pulled him down so you were nose to nose. "I won't hesitate to kick your ass. I fight vampires and werewolves and all kinds of other creatures for a living. You know I can do it," you growled then released him.

He loosened his tie enough to slip it off over his head. "I suppose now is a bad time to tell you how turned on I am, right?" he asked. Over your shoulder, you flipped him the bird as you took a seat on the couch. Logan chuckled and shook his head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

True to your word, after you had finished dinner, you and Logan decided to swap some war stories. You told him about some of the close calls you had and he told you about losing his partner, Max Greevy. You expressed your condolences and mentioned some of the people you had lost along the way as well. Charlie, Bobby, Ellen and Jo. Then you regaled him with the story about the hunt at Plucky Pennywhistle's, where Sam was attacked by clowns. You assured him that it would make more sense when he saw Sam in person. The big, tall moose of a man who was scared of clowns.

After the laughter between you died down, Mike looked at you and said, "Aw, Kenz, it's been way too long. I'm having a great time, talking with you like this. I've missed you," he admitted.

"I'm having a great time too, Mike. You've had my number saved in your phone after all these years. Why haven't you called?" you asked.

Logan paused before answering. "I dunno. I guess I kept waiting for you to come back here, back to me. We had something, Kenzie. You can't deny that," he replied.

"I know, Logan, but the key word is, 'had'. I'm with Dean now, and he's....he's it for me, Mike. I love him to the moon and back. He knows when I'm upset but trying to hide it, and he doesn't let me get away with it. He helps me through the nightmares. He has seen me at my worst, and he still loves me. For him I would die, and I nearly have. More than a few times. He's everything to me, and looks at me in return as if I'm everything to him," you finished softly.

"Wow. I can see in your eyes how much you love him. I hope I'm lucky enough someday to find someone like you again, Kenzie," Logan remarked. "Don't worry, I'm not going to come between you two. I'd like us to still be friends, though," he said with hope.

You sniffled and then smiled at him. "Deal. Now, no more chick-flick moments," you grinned.

"Right! You thirsty? Want something else to drink?" Logan asked as he rose from his chair.

"Nah, I'm good. I think it's time for me to go to sleep, though. It's been a long day," you replied. Logan agreed, and got out some extra pillows and blankets for you. "Thank you, Mike. I appreciate you letting me stay here tonight. And, I'm glad you called and asked for our help. Don't be such a stranger though. Call me once in a while, okay? Goodnight, Mike," you said as you gave him a hug.

"Goodnight, Kenz," Logan returned. Still love you, he silently added.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the way to the precinct, you and Logan stopped for a bagel and coffee. "Man, I forgot how good the food is here in New York," you said as you sipped your coffee. "The pizza alone is almost worth moving back here for. Almost," you added.

You spent the morning reviewing Briscoe and Logan's case notes and the M.E.'s reports from both crime scenes. Around lunch time, you got a call from Sam, saying they were only a few blocks away, according to his phone's GPS.  You leapt out of your chair and headed downstairs to meet them, with Briscoe, Logan and Lt. VanBuren behind you.

Just as the Impala was pulling into a parking space in front of the building, you burst through the doors. You were so excited that you nearly tripped down the stone steps. Dean was out of the car almost before the engine shut off and ran towards you.

With a huge smile on your face, you jumped into his arms as soon as he reached you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands cradled his face. Dean had one hand on your thigh and the other on your back, supporting you. Your mouths had crashed together in a long, passionate kiss. When you broke apart, both you and Dean were grinning at each other, overjoyed to no longer be apart. He brushed your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. "Missed you, Kenzie baby," he remarked softly. "Missed you too, my love," you whispered.

Dean released his hold on you and lowered your feet to the ground, but held fast to your hand. You both turned to the two detectives and their lieutenant, who were grinning at the display they just witnessed.

"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" a voice from the Impala's passenger side boomed out in fake annoyance.

"Sam!!" You exclaimed as you ran over to hug the younger Winchester. "Heya, Kenz. Great to see you, glad to finally be here," Sam chuckled. You hooked your arm with Sam and pulled him over to where Dean was left standing. You took Dean's hand in yours once again and intertwined your fingers.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Sam and Dean Winchester. Boys, these are Detectives Lennie Briscoe and Michael Logan, and their boss, Lt. Anita VanBuren," you stated. Everyone exchanged handshakes and pleasantries, then you all went inside.

Once you got back upstairs, you suggested meeting in one of the interview rooms. Sam and Dean followed Briscoe and Logan to the room. Lt. VanBuren got right next to you and held you back a bit by your arm. "Girl, you didn't tell me he was even better looking in person! Mmm! I'll say it again, your man is FINE!" she declared, as you chuckled.

Inside the interview room, you signaled to Logan to disconnect the cameras, and you locked the doors. "What we're about to tell you doesn't leave this room. The fewer people that know, the better. Logan already knows some of it, from when he and I were together," you said as you took Dean's hand in yours.

"From the information on the first crime scene, the M.E.'s reports and yesterday's discovery, I think what we're dealing with is a skinwalker," you announced. Dean looked at you in surprise, and you nodded.

"A skinwalker? What the hell is that?" Briscoe asked.

"A skinwalker is a cousin to a werewolf, so canine in origin. Which is why that's what I thought it was at first," you started. "The claw marks, the hearts missing, that usually points to a werewolf," you remarked.

"What made you change your mind, Kenz?" Dean asked.

"It was yesterday's crime scene. The first one was at night, in the park. Yesterday, we were called to a neighborhood, a backyard. And it was late evening, but not after midnight. More of a domestic setting, too," you emphasized. Dean looked down at his shoes and nodded, because he agreed with your assessment. That meant you'd have to change your strategy for tracking, fighting and killing the thing.

"Is all this stuff for real? I mean, I thought werewolves and such were just campfire stories meant to scare people," Briscoe interjected.

"Nope, Lennie, it's all real. When Kenzie left here to go home to Kansas, she said that her folks had been killed by vampires," Logan explained. "At first, I thought it was just some elaborate excuse to break up with me, but then she showed me her journal. All full of notes about this kind of stuff. What the thing is, where it lives, its weaknesses and more importantly, how to kill it," Logan finished. He gave you a quick smile to show you his support.

"What's unique about a skinwalker, is that it can change into a dog at any given moment. That alone is going to make things much more difficult, as far as tracking it down and killing it," Sam mentioned.

"In a city this size, with as many dogs as there are about? We're going to have to keep an eye on the parks and neighborhoods at night. Most likely for strays, or ones with tags but that are out wandering by themselves," you finished.

"Gee, and here I thought this was going to be difficult," Lennie muttered.

"So, how do we kill it, if we're lucky to find one?" Lt. VanBuren asked.

"Silver, through the heart," Dean answered.

"We still have some of those silver bullets, Dean?" you asked him.

He nodded. "Think so, Kenz," he replied. "We've got some you can just load right into a clip for your 9mm. But is there a garage or something I can pull into? I don't exactly want to do this out on the street," Dean explained.

Logan walked out to the Impala with Dean to show him where to park. Once they got into the parking space, Dean opened the trunk's secret compartment to get out the silver bullets. When Mike saw all the hardware, he gave a low whistle of appreciation.

"And all of this kills one thing or another, right?" Logan asked, gesturing to the arsenal.

"Yep," Dean answered.

As Dean was digging through the trunk, the tension between the men was almost thick enough to cut through to need a chainsaw. Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, thanks for letting Kenzie crash on your couch last night," he said gruffly. "It was good to know that she's protected, even though she'll tell you she can do it herself," Dean added.

"Yeah, she's pretty independent, from what I remember. It was good to catch up with her, swap some stories," Logan replied. "And uh, you don't have to worry about me. I can tell how much she loves you, and I'd never come between that. As long as she's happy and you treat her right, that's what matters to me," Logan finished.

The two men shook hands, which seemed to ease some of the tension. Little did they know, but you and Lt. VanBuren were watching their interaction. "Well, I'll be damned. We might just be able to pull this off without them killing each other," you remarked.

"I didn't think Mike had it in him. You know, before Dean got here, I noticed something. Since you got here, Logan's been watching your every move. He still loves you," Lt. VanBuren observed.

"He said as much last night, but I told him about my feelings for Dean and how much he means to me. Logan said he understood and that he wouldn't come between us. We'll still be friends, though," you replied. The lieutenant seemed skeptical about that, but she kept her thoughts to herself for the time being.

Back up in the interview room, you all worked together to come up with a plan to find the skinwalker and eliminate it. Tonight, you were all going to the park dressed in regular clothes, like you were having a picnic of sorts. All the while, you would be keeping an eye out for dogs that may be candidates for the skinwalker. Even if it turned out to be a bust, you'd at least have the memory of a good meal spent together.

As you ate, various conversations filled the air. Lennie expressed his appreciation of the Impala to Dean, who didn't hesitate to boast about her attributes. Sam and Mike got to know each other a little better, while you and Anita quietly discussed the men sitting at the table. At various times during the meal, you and Dean would lock eyes, and you gave each other a smile. Those moments warmed your hearts and made you love each other even more. Everyone else decided to tease you about how "disgustingly cute" it was.

The real work began after dinner. Sam and Dean tossed around a baseball, while you and Logan took a walk together. Dean kept a watchful eye on the two of you, making sure to keep you in his sights.

"Relax, Dean, they're just talking," Sam said, interrupting Dean's surveillance of you and Logan.

"Yeah, Sammy, I know. Besides, I have a little game-changer in my pocket here," Dean grinned and tossed a small box towards his brother.

Sam opened it and gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Whoa, Dean. You mean this?" he asked.

"Sammy, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. She's my world, man. I can't see me growing old with anyone else but Kenzie. Maybe someday have a couple of kids running around the bunker, I don't know," Dean remarked.

Sam walked over to his brother to return the ring. "Well, I gotta say this. It's about damned time, Dean," he grinned. "I've watched the two of you over the years, man. There are no two people on this earth that are more meant for each other than you and Kenzie," Sam replied.

"Thanks, Sam, I appreciate that," Dean said. He looked up to see that you and Logan were walking back towards him and Sam. You stopped for a moment as your eyes met and you flashed him a brilliant smile.

Just as you were almost to where he was standing, a German Shepherd barreled into you, knocking you over. A man with dark hair, brown eyes and somewhat of an athletic build came running over to you. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I threw the Frisbee, but I thought he'd catch it before it reached you. Are you okay?" he said frantically.

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off. "I'm okay, please don't worry. It was bound to happen sometime tonight, park's kinda busy," you responded.

"Sarge, that was naughty of you to knock over this nice lady. Say you're sorry," the man admonished.

Sarge looked at you with deep sorrow in his eyes. You couldn't resist Sam's puppy-dog eyes, so you definitely couldn't resist the real thing. You reached over to pet him and scratch behind his ears. "Oh, it's okay, Sarge. You're still a good boy," you cooed.

"Kenzie? Baby, are you okay?" Dean came rushing over, checking you for injuries.

"I'm okay, Dean, really. You don't have to fuss," you pouted, but secretly loved his attention.

"Well, we'd best be on our way. Sorry about knocking you over, miss," the man said as he and Sarge departed.

Dean curled his arm around you, keeping you close to his side. You brought one arm around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder, your other hand resting on his chest. "You okay, sweetheart?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine, my love," you responded. You looked up to see him scanning the park and you could tell he was in full-on hunter mode. You began to feel it too, like something wasn't quite right. "What is it?" you asked.

"Don't know yet. I don't think that was a random encounter. Something's off, and I think we should pack up and call it a day," Dean replied.

You both rejoined the group and helped pack things up. You agreed to meet at the precinct in the morning to share your thoughts about your encounter with the man and his dog. Dean drove back to the motel, his hand in yours with fingers intertwined. Once there, Sam went to his room, while you and Dean went to yours.

Dean threw his bags onto the floor next to the table and chair in the corner. You followed, and did the same with your bags. As soon as you closed the door, Dean had you pushed up against it, his lips smashed into yours with hot, frenzied kisses. His hands roamed freely over your body, up your sides, your arms, and finally his hands cradling your face. "Oh, god, Kenzie, I've missed you so much," Dean whispered between kisses.

"I've missed you too, Dean. Holding that pillow last night was no substitute for the real thing," you replied breathlessly.

You broke apart long enough to help each other get undressed, then you met again beneath the sheets. Dean raised up on one elbow, hovering over you a bit. The back of his hand brushed your cheek ever so softly, almost with a reverence. "I love you with all my heart, Kenz. You are one of the best things to ever come into my life. It was me and Sam for so many years, then you came along," Dean remarked.

He reached behind him on the nightstand and brought out a small, black velvet box. "I've loved you from the moment I met you. There's no one else on this earth but you that I want to grow old with. Mackenzie Reed, will you marry me?"

Dean opened the box to reveal a gorgeous diamond and white gold engagement ring. Tears sprang to your eyes and you covered your mouth with your hand. "I love you so much, Dean, of course I'll marry you!" you exclaimed.

He slipped the ring onto your left hand then captured your lips in a slow, sensuous kiss. "I love you, Mr. Winchester," you grinned. "I love you, Mrs. Soon-to-Be-Winchester," Dean replied. You celebrated your engagement with a night of passionate lovemaking with your future husband.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The man and his dog returned to their car. Shortly thereafter, two men stood beside the car, the German Shepherd no longer present. The dog had been replaced by a tall, well-built man with blond hair and brown eyes. "It's her. The one we're looking for, I smelled it. She's the one who killed my twin brother two years ago. Hunters," he snarled.

"What should we do, Karl?" the other man asked.

"Patience, Thomas. Patience. Besides, once we capture her, we'll have an added bonus. An additional piece of leverage to get those hunter friends of hers to rescue her," Karl explained.

"What? What 'leverage' are you talking about?" the other man queried.

"She is with child," Karl grinned evilly.